The Best Laid Plans Affair
by MLaw
Summary: The Kuryakins are expecting another child, and Illya surprises his wife with a long overdue trip together, but unexpected events overshadow his best laid plans. # 21 in the Saga-series. AU and a follow-up story to 'Dancing in the Dark Affair." Mild Het chapter 10
1. Chapter 1

"_**But little Mouse, you are not alone, in proving foresight may be vain; The best laid plans of mice and men go often awry, And leave us nothing but grief and pain, for promised joy! ~ excerpt from "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough" by Robert Burns.**_

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**"The Best Laid Plans Affair"**

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"Is that the best you can do?" He laughed with defiance in his voice."Why, I...aaaaaayuggggh."

"Oh that changed yer tune didn't it?"

"Mmmm, not in the least. Have at it, go ahead." Kuryakin dared.

He felt a hand pressing hard against his back as he fought to contain another groan.

"So give up?"

"Never."

The pressure increased substantially, and he finally let out a yelp of pain as something went snap.

"Better?" Elliott dug the heel of her hand into the small of her husband's, back trying to relieve the muscle tension.

"Yes, thank you." He rolled to his side, pulling her over into his arms and tickling her.

Elliott screamed with laughter then suddenly cursed.

"Shite! Owwww!"

Illya was up in a shot. "What is wrong, is it the baby?"

"Yes, sharp pain but it's going away." She lay there until she caught her breath. "It's gone, I'm fine now. I guess our little one didn't like me being tickled."

"Well I think it best to tell the doctor tomorrow when you go for your ultrasound."

She could hear the concern in his voice." Will ye please stop worrying, it's not like I haven't had a baby before."

"I cannot help it, I worry not just about the baby but about you. If something ever happened to you, I do not know what I would do," he whispered to her as he stroked her hair.

"Ye would go on as ye always have and ye know it."

He looked her directly in the eyes as he spoke."Yes I might, but I would not want to," he sighed. "

"Seriously now, if something did ever happen ta me, I'd want ye ta find someone else. I wouldn't want ye ta be alone."

"Annushka, please do not go there?"

"I can't help it, I worry about things like that." She teased, but at the same time she was being truthful.

"Well do not. I would not be alone...I have the children. And besides, I am a man who has no problem being alone, per se. I do have to admit though, being by myself is something I would no longer look forward to. I used to revel being alone like a Neanderthal in his cave, but that is a life I no longer wish to cling to.

Elliott snuggled up beside him as he wrapped his arm around her, laying his hand on her belly. "Ah so should I start calling ye my caveman?"

"Cute. Now to change the subject and please do not be upset when I say this, but you are surprisingly bigger. I mean your abdomen that is, it is larger than when you were carrying Lala."

"Mmmm I thought that too myself. I guess our new Kurya-kid is going to be a big baby," she said drowsily.

"Kid, Kurya-kid? * Elliott, a kid is a baby goat, and our child is most certainly not that. Where in the world did you come up with this?" He was relieved that she did not get upset when he referenced her size, as the last time he did that during her pregnancy with Lala, she nearly bit is head off...something about him saying she was fat, which he had not.

"Napoleon," she yawned.

Illya huffed, "Why does that not surprise me."

"Soooo, what would ye like ta call our next addition ta the family?"

"Definitely not Napoleon."

"What about Antony then? After all, he did use a variation of your patronymic for Lucine Celeste _Nicolette_..."

"True, the Russian version is Anton. Anton Ilyich. Hmm, I like it. Now what if it is a girl? I think you should choose that name as well, after all Lala was supposed to have been named by you." **

"Well given the circumstances, you did a good job having her christened." She reached over, but hesitated closing the lamp on the night table.

"How about Antonia then?" She asked.

"You seem rather determined with this name. Antonia Ilyichnova...hmm, not sure if I like it." It was his turn to yawn.

"Yah, ye are right, now that I hear it, I don't like it either. I just thought it would be nice. If ye had heard the eulogy that Napoleon delivered on yer behalf, it would have touched ye deeply."** "So if it's a boy, it's Antony, and if a girl?" She hesitated, "I'm going to sleep on it my darlin', why don't ye join me?"

There was no answer, and she realized he was already lightly snoring. Elliott clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she turned off the light, and taking a few minutes longer to fall asleep than her husband had.

Though not far along in the pregnancy, she felt something wasn't right. Given Illya's level of concern; she opted not to tell him that: otherwise he would have become nearly intolerable. Elliott wondered if she was telegraphing anything to him as he was acting more than worried; he seemed nervous. That was an emotion she was not accustomed to with him.

At ten o'clock the next morning, Illya Kuryakin sat patiently waiting outside the Ultrasound Section of the Department of Radiology at Mount Sinai Hospital. Elliott McGowan-Kuryakina was registered under her standard cover name, Elise Manning, mother of two children James and Mary and married to Elias Manning, who worked for an import-export company. They told people they were British citizens who had emigrated to the United States and were now both citizens as their two children had been born here. A simple clean cover story.

"Hi there!" A familiar voice called down the hallway to him.

"Bella, how are you?" Illya responded.

"I'm fine, better still how are you? Ready for the big surprise?"

"That depends upon what the doctor says. At the moment I am a little nerv...concerned as Elliott complained of a sharp pain last night. She also seems a little bigger given the stage of her pregnancy. She is gaining more weight though her appetite has not really increased...that I would not tell her, as I remember her mood swings last time when it came to that topic."

"Hmmm, I remember them well. I have to admit, your wife's temper is legendary, especially when triggered by raging hormones. "Bella grinned. "Now which exam room is she in?"

"Number three."

"You sit tight, I'll check in on her."

Fifteen minutes later she reappeared with a big smile.

"I take it there is good news, since you look rather pleased."

"Everything is fine, there a viable egg sack and clear signs of an embryo. Definitely a little Kurya-kid in the oven. But there is one minor complication. We saw a secondary egg sack, but no embryo, so it may have been twins but since we only saw one fetus, we're assuming the other embryo did not survive, and it's a boy by the way.

Illya was quiet for a moment, finding himself suddenly saddened at that news. "A boy?" He asked absentmindedly at first, but then he gave her his shy smile.

Bella could see the unsettled look on his face. "Hey you have a healthy baby boy growing in there, Elliott's fine and that's all that counts."

His look remained unchanged. "Another son." He finally smiled in earnest.

"Illya, the baby and Elliott are fine," she repeated. "Rough estimate on the due date is October, so you have plenty of time for your plans. You have the go ahead. When are you going to tell her?"

"On the way home. That is why I had all the arrangements in place just in case we received the green light." He smiled shyly.

"Well good, you two deserve it as it's long overdue. So I'll see you at your house," Bella smiled happily.

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The Kuryakins left the hospital, both relieved at the test results, but just a bit disappointed that it had not been twins.

"Well I guess that explains why I'm a tad bigger," she sighed.

Illya decided to improve the mood in the cab on the way home, going ahead with his plan. "I have a surprise for you."

"Ye are retiring from U.N.C.L.E.?"

He looked at her strangely, not getting her joke at first.

"Noooo." He laughed, finally catching on. He pulled out two airline tickets from his pocket. "We are going to do something that we never had a chance to do."

Elliott grabbed the tickets from his hand. "Bermuda?"

"Yes, Bermuda. We are going on the honeymoon we never had. With another child on the way, I realized it would become even more difficult for it to be possible later on. So, no time like the present."

She stared at the tickets one more time."Illya, we can't afford this."

"Oh yes we can. I did not tell you, but I received a bonus for undertaking the mission to Gorky."**

"Ye what? I've never heard of such a thing? Ye've got ta be joking, a bonus?"

"Yes, thanks to Mr. Waverly. You are aware of the new policy regarding the loaning out of our agents to other agencies."

"Yah, U.N.C.L.E.'s charging a rental fee, putting it roughly."

"Well Mr. Waverly deducted ten percent of that fee as a bonus, which he offered to me. I refused it of course."

"Of course..." she snickered." I hear a but coming."

"But he insisted and had it deposited to my payroll account."

"How much was the fee?"

"Fifty thousand."

"Jay-sus, Illya that's five thousand dollars!" She leaned back in the seat.

"Keep in mind that the fees charged by UNCLE will vary depending upon the agent and the mission."

"Ye sound like a disclaimer on a television commercial!"

He laughed at her reaction."I was told it was commensurate with my position with the organization. So now we know what I am worth," he sighed.

"Darlin' fifty thousand is a pittance, as ye are priceless."

"Thank you, that is very kind of you to take note." He retorted. "The cost of the airfare and the hotel,however, are a gift from Mr. Waverly. He said something about owing us a great deal. I protested as well, but as you know it is impossible to win an argument with him. So with some of the bonus we will have more than adequate spending cash for meals and entertainment."

"Wow, the old fox is doing this fer us?" She was shocked, as she couldn't recall ever having heard anything like it ever happening.

"Now we are sworn to secrecy on this. Mr. Waverly does not want anyone to know. His exact words were, "If word were to get out, then I would be perceived as being an old softie." Illya did quite a good imitation of his boss, making his wife laugh.

"You'll need some new summer clothes, given your pregnancy, so go buy what you need or want. The best thing is there will be quite a tidy sum left over that I think we should lock away in a high interest-bearing bank account for the children's education."

"Ye have it all figured out don't ye?"

" The fact that it was a fortunate stroke of serendipity helped in the decision making process and I acted upon it just as you did when you wanted our house, hmmm?" He countered, then leaned over and kissed her before she could answer. ****

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* thanks to Roselight for the term. "Kurya-kid" ** ref "The Dancing in the Dark Affair"*** ref "The Vengeance Affair"**** ref "The Island Affair."


	2. Chapter 2

It was settled then, the children would stay with the Solo's, leaving Olga to go visit her son who was stationed at UNCLE headquarters in San Diego. He'd gotten married and was expecting Olga's first grandchild; though the Kuryakin offspring were treated like her own flesh and blood and the children looked upon her as their babushka.

At her Illya's insistence Elliott went shopping at Macy's, taking along Bella to help her buy, in essence, her long overdue honeymoon trousseau.

"You seem nervous," Bella observed as she and Elliott wandered through the racks of clothing. "Are you alright, do you feel okay...you're not in any pain are you?"

"Jay-sus, ye sound like my husband. I'm fine. I was having a bit of a flashback, as the last time you and I were out and about together was when my Demmy was kidnapped." *

"Elliott honey, that was quite a while ago and you need to put that out of your head. Come on now, you're going on your honeymoon...you and that man of yours. Just the two of you alone on a sandy beach, makes me think of that scene in From Here to Eternity." Bella fanned herself with her hand, laughing out loud. "Wow, I just made myself all hot and bothered!"

That made the Irishwoman chuckle for a moment. "Shame, I'm preggers," she sighed, only regretting the fact that she had a baby bump, and not the pregnancy itself. Elliott held up a blue string bikini with another sigh. "No matter, this won't do," she declared, putting it down in favor of a sky blue baby doll bathing suit. "I'll just feel like I'm swimming in my pajamas."

The rest of her purchases consisted of colorful sundresses, shorts, tank tops, a wide straw hat and matching shoulder bag, and most importantly comfortable shoes. Elliott concluding she'd bought enough. She had a little black dress at home that Illya was fond of, and with a little maneuvering of a black scarf, it would be wearable. That would do if they went somewhere a little more formal.

"Isn't there's some very important clothing you're forgetting." Bella dragged her to the lingerie department, dangling flimsy, sexy little numbers in front of her and smiling wickedly as she held them up for her friend to see.

"Tsk, now why would I go fer those? I'm not exactly in the sexiest of shape for one, mind ye."

"Honey it's all in the attitude. Just pick a couple, they're really for him you know." Bella teased.

"I suppose yer right," Elliott said, not telling Bella about Illya's thing for that French maid outfit, and garter belts. She, like Illya, was a bit on the practical side and thought it a waste thought to buy an article of clothing that would be removed rather quickly; holding up a black lace see- through chemise, giggling as she changed her mind. She reasoned out loud. "After all black is his favorite color."

"And how many of these flimsy little nothings do ye own?" Elliott teased.

"Honey, I have a whole dresser devoted to just lingerie."

"I guess that was silly question ta ask."

"With Napoleon, yes." Bella snickered.

Elliott ended up buying three, plus a diaphanous black robe with ostrich feather trim and simple white gauze-like one as well, to be a little more functional, yet still luxurious.

Bella had started something as Elliott then got the wicked idea to go to the men's department, buying a black silk robe and matching pajama bottoms for him.

Though in the warmer weather at home, they often slept in the nude...the feeling of the silk was so amazing. Illya deserved a little luxury himself, he'd earned it and she supposed because they were all black; he'd give her no guff.

Then she spotted a black Speedo bathing suit, and giggled uncontrollably. He'd kill her, but it would be worth it just to see the look on his face. And it was fair play since she was buying her naughty nighties, as she called them, for him. The bathing suit would be for her. The last things she picked up for him were some Bermuda shorts, several Hawaiian print shirts and lastly, as a cover up, just in case wearing the Speedo in public bothered him. There were times when he could be surprisingly modest, as well as shy.

After the shopping spree was completed, Bella returned with Elliott to the Kuryakin home in Washington Square; picking up the children and their suitcases after they said goodbye to their parents.

Demya and Lala were accustomed to the traveling habits of their parents, and were unfazed by them going away. It was a treat for them to be staying with their Uncle Napoleon and Aunt Bella as well as their cousins Luci and Poly and they were excited as they looked forward to it.

Illya and Elliott bent down to them, giving hugs and kisses, along with the usual warnings to behave.

"_Sledite za vashu sestru_watch over your sister._" Illya whispered to his son as he picked up Lala, cuddling her in his arms one last time." I will miss you and Demya. _Budʹ khoroshyeĭ devochkoĭ dlya menya , da_ Be a good girl for me, yes?_"

"Da," she answered as she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

"I will be a good big brother Papa." Demya replied, and Illya tousled the boys hair in response.

Illya passed hid daughter to Bella. "Bye-bye Papa" Lala waved as she was carried out to the waiting taxi, flashing her big blue eyes at him."

Illya let out a long sighing moan.

"It's bothering ye, leaving them isn't it, as this time it's by choice and not necessity?"

He avoided answering Elliott's question. "She is going to break hearts someday... when she is about thirty." Illya smirked.

"Thirty? What are ye on about?"

"I plan to keep her away locked from the male of the species until then."

"Ye are being so silly," she laughed, pulling him into a kiss.

"Nyet, I am being protecting my daughter from such things as I am going to do to you now." He laughed, and suddenly lifted his wife into him arms, carrying her to the living room sofa where they made love. When they were finished with their deep breathing exercise, as Elliott sometimes called it, they lay there snuggling together, relaxing before going upstairs to finish their packing.

"Mmmm, just think an entire week of sex, sand and surf," she whispered, playing with the hair on his chest, half laying on top of him.

"Do not forget, food. Eating lots of food," he smiled." And sleeping."

"Yes, I didn't forget, but it's a shame I can't drink any alcohol. Not fair, but oh well."

They drifted off, taking a little nap, made love again, showered, and finally finished packing their suitcases. Elliott had ducked her purchases out of sight, not to spoil the surprises, giving Illya the shorts and shirts only.

He commented about the _colors_ of the Hawaiian print shirts, and she was surprised that he didn't complain. That being said; they were ready to go.

Illya's stomach rumbled. "Mmm. Hungry for something else now."

"Ye are always hungry. I want to know, how did ye keep yer growling stomach from giving ye away on missions all these years?"

"That is an interesting question. I can only imagine that my stomach knew the proper time and place to speak up."

"I always suspected yer gut had a mind of it's own."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I'll fix us some supper," she said attempting to take one of the suitcases from the bed, but Illya stopped her, lifting it himself.

"Lovey I'm preggers, not an invalid."

"No, I insist you relax. I will prepare us something." he smiled. He again lifted her up effortlessly, putting her down on the bed.

"I feel like a queen, ye cooking,and me laying in bed...I could get used ta this."

"Do not push it," he snickered, slipping into his old terry cloth robe.

"Napoleon is right, ye really are a smart aleck Russian." She threw a bed pillow at him as he ducked out the door.

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* ref "The Vengeance Affair."


	3. Chapter 3

The flight was short, a mere hour and a half, and Elliott looked out the window as the jet made its slow descent through the billowing clouds above their destination, the only airport in Bermuda located not far from the capital.

The sun reflected brightly on the near azure water that was so clear and inviting; filling her will a sense of excitement. She poked Illya in the arm with her elbow, pointing to the beautiful sight, and making him smile.

The captain made a brief announcement, chatting about the current temperature and weather, a balmy 75˚, lower than the average but certainly comfortable. He apologized for a slight delay in landing, as their jet was put into a holding pattern until a problem was cleared up at the airport.

The Kuryakins were to find out later there had some political unrest in the area, disturbing the arrivals and departures at the airport for a short period. Incidents such as these were kept under close wraps, so as to not affect the tourist trade, a main source of income for this small British territory that was in the process of transitioning to an independent state.

When the American Airlines flight finally touched down with a slight bump and a screech of the tires, as the pilot applied the powerful brakes; it jarred the Russian from a brief nap. The jet pulled to slow stop as it taxied to a stop at Bermuda International Airport. It was just a single long runway located at the former site of the joint U.S. Air force- Royal Air force base at Kindley Field in the parish of St. George just 11 km. Northeast of Bermuda's capital city of Hamilton.

Bermuda to most people was a single island when in fact it was a collection of 181 islands, islets and rocks most of which were uninhabited, but the eight larger ones were linked by bridges and a causeway making it feel like one continuous land mass.

"Did you know that Hamilton was named after named in honor of Henry Hamilton who was governor here from 1788 to 1794." Illya whispered.

"No. Why do you have a feeling there's something more to this little history lesson? Elliott looked at him suspiciously.

"Hamilton was born in Dublin, Ireland. His great grandfather was Sir Frederick Hamilton, Baron Paisley and Governor of Ulster. Henry's grandfather, Gustavus Hamilton, had a distinguished military career, was raised to the King's Privy Council and became Viscount Boyne in the Irish peerage. Henry's father was the third son of Viscount Boyle, a member of the Irish Parliament and Collector of the port of Cork.

Elliott flashed a grin, as finding an Irish connection in Bermuda was an unexpected treat.

"Thank you moya lyubov, that was very considerate of you to find that out for me."

"We aim to please, Madame Kur... Mrs. Manning." He took their luggage from the overhead compartment and held their carry-on suitcases as he and his wife descended the stairs from the plane to the tarmac, taking the subtropical air in with a deep inhalation. It was only seven o'clock in the morning, giving them a full day ahead for what ever they planned, or not. The thought of that to him was almost unnerving, but he quickly shook off the feeling.

The weather was just right, not too hot or cold, and for the Russian who hated extreme heat, this was a perfect destination for he and his wife's long overdue get away.

Smiling shyly at each other, the happy couple stepped from the stairs onto the ground, feeling like young lovers again. They had never had a long trip together anywhere that wasn't related to work, so this was unfamiliar territory for both of them and it felt good.

"We should have done this a long time ago, "he whispered." I am sorry."

"What are ye apologizing for? I was just as busy as ye. Our work has been our lives, and now things are changing again," Elliott smiled as she touched her belly.

"I am looking forward to this very much, and that as well," Illya replied, putting his hand on top of hers.

Searching for a quote, he remembered something Mark Twain had said regarding his frequent trips to the British territory.

"Bermuda is the right country for a jaded man to "loaf " in. There are no harassments; the deep peace and quiet of the country sink into one's body and bones and give his conscience a rest and chloroform the legion of invisible small devils that are always trying to whitewash his hair."

Upon saying that he was suddenly hit with one of his uneasy feelings, but dismissed it for once, thinking that it was his subconscious making him feel a little guilty for anticipating a leisurely time away from his job and Napoleon. Allowing himself this personal pleasure instead of being there to watch his partner's back was something he was unaccustomed to, and he could just imagine Napoleons comments about that. Illya was feeling conscience-stricken from being away from work for something so self indulgent, but felt equally as guilty for having put if off for so many years. He refrained from saying anything about it to his wife.

The Kuryakins breezed through customs as their passports indicated they were Mr. and Mrs. Manning, both British citizens and they picked up the rest of their luggage at the carousel in the small Bermudian airport. A baggage handler helped, placing their suitcases on a cart and guided it out with them to the taxi stand.

The couple continued holding hands like lovers instead of a married couple long familiar with each other; breathing in the wonderfully fresh air, mingled with the salt of the sea and fragrant scents of tropical flowers that surrounded the airport.

"Here for vacation?" The red capped handler asked.

"Honeymoon."Illya smiled.

"Congratulations!" The man beamed as he opened the taxi door for them.

"Where are you headed?"

"Horizon Estates."

"Excellent choice." He said, and tipped his cap in thanks at the gratuity Illya hand handed him."Enjoy your stay."

The birth of their son, their never-ending and often dangerous missions with U.N.C.L.E. and the birth of their daughter under tumultuous circumstances added yet another of many delay preventing from ever having their honeymoon that should have taken place almost six years ago. A sense of sudden freedom overtook them both.

"Time flies when yer having fun, " Elliott would laugh at any mention of ever daring to plan it. Every little vacation they had attempted to embark upon had so far ended in disaster. One of the worst was a visit with Bella and Napoleon to the Solo family cabin in upstate New York. ***

This time, however, it was a last minute plan on Illya's part and Mr. Waverly's, figuring that advanced plans always went astray. Waverly's gift and the bonus having been dropped into their laps was what made it possible.

Before the Kuryakins had bought the brownstone in Washington Square, in Greenwich Village and had two children, such a trip would have been manageable, but the expense of owning one's own home and raising children made it difficult to near impossible to consider.

Waverly somehow felt in part indirectly responsible for the situation resulting in the kidnapping of their son by a demented former U.N.C.L.E. agent, relating it to the fact that if he had not condoned Illya and Elliott's relationship in the first place; the end result of a domino effect would never have occurred.

After Illya's mission to the Soviet Union for the C.I.A. and being wounded, Waverly felt it was clearly time for his number two agent and new American citizen to have that long overdue time with his wife. He dropped the hint several times to Illya after the bonus had been paid, until the stubborn Russian finally got the message.*

As a couple and family they had been through so much and succeeded in rising above all their troubles. They were special to Alexander Waverly and this trip was the least he could do to show them his gratitude for putting up with having them been his little experiment for so many years.

The Old Man wouldn't admit it, but he felt rather fatherly towards the Kuryakins and thought himself somewhat responsible for them being together.

Illya didn't exactly agree with that, knowing that he and Elliott would have ended up together whether Waverly or the organization approved of it or not, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? A honeymoon on Waverly was not something to be taken lightly.

The only trepidation they had was to leave their son and daughter behind, along with Boris, the family cat. It was unquestionably the first time in a long while the children would be left without one of their parents with them, though Elliott was sure the Solo twins would provide a more than adequate distraction.

Demya and Lourdes Mary loved their Uncle Napoleon and Aunt Bella but Boris visiting the Solo household would be another matter. The family pet tolerated people outside the family, though she did seem to like the twins, that ensured part of the visit would result in some interesting stories. Napoleon was not a lover of animals. Needless to say, he'd suffered the rath of Boris when he'd stepped on her tail one two many times and for that reason Boris gave him a wide berth, and vise versa.

The Solo twins had already developed quite remarkable personalities, Poly with large brown eyes favored her father, and was able to wrap anyone around her little finger, Luci had he hint of violet in her eyes like her mother and melted the hardest of hearts that met her. They were spoiled terribly by their daddy, and though Bella would protest, she did so only half heartedly as the twins were his delight. They were also quite mischievous.

Lourdes Mary had done the same thing to her own father and as Illya had predicted the day the Solo twins were born; that the love of their children had helped heal the chasm of a rift that existed between the two partners, so much to the point that it had disappeared and he and Napoleon were back to their normal selves with each other. **

With their partnership intact, as well as their friendship; they had become stronger through forgiveness and the love of their children.

Demya eased his parents worried minds, when the boy seemed to be in his glory being not only the older brother to his sister but to his twin "cousins" as well, dismissing the idea that his parents were going away, and now looking forward to the week long visit with Poly and Luci.

Still, the thought at abandoning their babies weighed heavily on the Kuryakins; the invisible umbilical cord still tugged at Elliott emotionally as it did every mother when finally having to leave her babies for a prolonged time and the uneasiness knotted in Illya's stomach at leaving the son they'd almost lost. The ever-present feeling of fear poked at their hearts, even though they had both taken a vow not to let fear control their lives.

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* ref "The Dancing in the Dark Affair" ** ref "The Vengeance Affair" *** ref "The Cabin in the Woods Affair"


	4. Chapter 4

The red cap directed the taxi driver to the Horizons Estates located on the wooded grounds of an 18th century plantation. Not a traditional hotel; it consisted of a main house with nine rooms, fourteen private cottages and its crowning glory, the favorite of honeymooners, a single house located at the top of the cliff, affectionately referred to as Heaven's Above. The location offered a spectacular view of Coral Beach below as well as the clear blue waters of the bay.

This was the other half of the gift that Waverly had booked for the Kuryakins.

After checking in at the main house, they walked up the steps hidden by the lush trees and flowers until they reached their home for the next seven days. A fair sized stucco style house painted a bright peach pastel color, such as was favored by Bermudians, stood beside it was a private built in pool, with several comfortable lounge chairs at its edge. Surrounding the property and house were bright hibiscus of every color, birds of paradise, snapdragons, bright red and yellow lilies, with tall hot pink bougainvillea trees flowering everywhere.

The shutters to the house were wide open, letting the ocean air though, sending the delicate white curtains wafting in the gentle breeze.

Elliott gasped at the sight of it. " Oh God Illuysha isn't it perfect?"

"I have to admit, it is nicer than I thought it would be, and the temperature with the breeze is most comfortable," he smiled at her.

They walked inside, depositing their suitcases on the floor. On a table in the main foyer was a welcome basket filled with fruits and other delicacies.

The first thing they did was locate the bedroom and finding a king-sized bed there, they both looked at each other, pulling their clothes off quickly, climbing into it, letting their hands and lips roam all over the other's body.

"Happy honeymoon at last Madame Kuryakina," he whispered as he nibbled on her throat.

At that moment Elliott began to giggle, wiggling out of his grasp and making him chase her across the bed. He laughing as well at her playfulness while they tossed and wrestled until she straddled him, lowering herself onto him with a moan of pleasure. It had been a while since they felt so carefree, and it showed in their marathon session. They were young, passionate lovers again.

Elliott finally emerged from the bedroom, somewhat dazed from their energetic frolics, even Illya was tired and had dozed off.

She unpacked the luggage, and not waking him; she hung the last of the clothing in the closet, until she realized her stomach was complaining of its hunger to her.

The clock on the wall told her it was only half-ten in the morning, though after being together in bed making glorious love with Illya, it felt as if half the day had already gone by.

The cabbie had told them there was a restaurant called the Four Ways Inn within walking distance, and she peeked at her sleeping Russian's face in total relaxation...a look that she rarely saw. She decided to wake him, giving enough time to shower and dress, then they would head out for food as noon approached.

The house had a full kitchen, so perhaps later they could head in to town to pick up some supplies allowing them to snuggle in for some meals if they chose to do so.

"Illuysha lyubov' moy, wake up," she whispered, not touching him.

His eyes opened instantly, then blinked a few times as he wiped the sleep from them with the heels of his hands.

"Annushka I am extremely hungry" he said pulling her into his arms in a deep kiss, exploring her with his tongue.

"Come on ye randy Russian, though I'm sorely tempted; we've time enough for that."

He grinned at her, hopping up from the bed." I am actually hungry for food as well."

"I figured as much." She laughed softly," me too. I unpacked the suitcases, let's shower, get dressed then head ta that restaurant the driver told us about.

"Mmmm good plan, I especially like the showering together part."

"Ye really are in honeymoon mode aren't ye?"

They went into the bathroom, enjoying the luxury of the oversized tiled shower with multiple high powered spigots as they bathed and made love again. Illya continued in his friskiness until Elliott finally protested.

"Enough already, Jay-sus boy-o pace yerself. It's not even noon on our first day! We do have another six and half days ahead of us. Good God, I never thought I'd see the day ye'd put off eating a meal?"

"You are intoxicating my love, do you know that? You make my appetite voracious for just you!" he laughed.

"That sounded terribly Napoleon! I haven't seen ye this happy in a long time... ye are happy aren't ye?'

"Very." he let out a enormous sigh as he helped towel the two of them dry but their bliss was disturbed by a loud knock at the front door.

Illya wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbing his Walther from the top of the bathroom sink, he headed towards the door. Elliott having put on her diaphanous white robe was right behind him with her weapon drawn as well.

"Who is it?" he asked as he stood to the side of the doorway.

"My name is Anita Minors," she said with a slightly clipped British accent. "Alexander Waverly sent me Mr. Kuryakin."

"I am sorry you are mistaken, there is no one here by that name. My name is Manning."

"Yes I know, that's your cover name Elias Manning and your wife's cover is Elise. I'm Section IV Intelligence from the Caribbean office, my husband was a section two agent, Nathan Saunders...he retired to marry me. Well I digress, as he was before your time. I understand you were the test case for the new marriage clause in company policy. There's a lot of happy field agents out there because of you two."

A gold U.N.C.L.E. ID card appeared from beneath the door, and Illya picked it up examining it carefully, before he finally lowered his gun and opened up.

A dark-skinned woman stood there, dressed in a brightly colored floral dress, the skirt blowing in the breeze. Her hair was tightly curled, in a short Afro style, and yet her features looked different.

She flashed him a bright smile, "I see you're confused by my appearance, I'm descended from native American Indians of the Pequot tribe brought here and sold as slaves in the late 1650's. My people are from David's Island, but my mother, however, was West Indian."

"That was not really necessary to explain," Illya answered, gesturing for her to come inside.

"Hello, you must be Elliott, " Anita offered her hand to her.

"Hello yerself and ye say Waverly sent ye, what for? We're on our honeymoon, which I'm sure he's well aware of since he's the one that arrang..." Elliott stopped herself. "I hope it's not ta send us on an assignment?"

"Oh no! No assignment! Mr. Waverly asked my husband Nathan and I to keep an eye out for you while you were here; you are after all his prize project... my goodness, I just made you sound like a pair of lab rats, I apologize! My husband is Nathan Saunders, Section II retired, and a friend of Alexander Waverly's from the old days. Not sure if you heard of him as he was a few years before your time in New York."

"No I am afraid I am not familiar with the name," Illya apologized.

"That's not surprising, but I'm sure your partner Mr. Solo will remember him...and me."She sighed. Napoleon, shall we say 'got' around." I even dated him before I met Nate." She grinned at a memory she was not about to share with them.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"Elliott quipped." Ye know Napoleon is married now, and has twins."

"So I was told." 'Nita grinned," His wife must be something special to have gotten that Tom cat to settle down."

"Yes she is." Illya added.

"Now just to let you know, I'll be around in the mornings to make you breakfast and have a lunch ready for you, but for dinner, you're on your own. I can take care of any laundry needs, and if you want a tour of the islands, we can help you there as well."

"I insist such attention is unnecessary, in spite of what Mr. Waverly has asked of you." Illya insisted.

"Okay, but just don't let the Old Man know. We can take you into Hamilton where you can rent scooters and tour around on your own...that's if you two plan to leave the bedroom that his?" She smiled again, seeing they had that look about them, the one only a person could have after having had some fantastic sex.

Illya showed no reaction to the statement, but Elliott blushed just a little.

"I'm sorry," 'Nita said, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"No worries, Anita," Elliott smiled," we are after all on our honeymoon." She dug her elbow playfully into her husband's side.

"You can call me 'Nita'," she said reaching outside the door, grabbing a paper sack of groceries laying on the ground beside her.

"So I imagine you're probably hungry after your morning exercise...why don't you go get dressed and I'll make you brunch. I've brought enough supplies here to last most of the week for breakfast and lunch."

"'Nita this really is not necessary, please." Illya tried to hide a shy smile.

"Yes it really is a bit much, U.N.C.L.E. doesn't provide personal service and security for any of its agents when they go on vacation," Elliott chided her." It's going to set a very unusual precedent isn't it?"

"You know what, that's not our worry ma'am, but since I'm here and ready, I'll just go ahead and fix brunch, think of it as a welcome to Bermuda, and then I'll leave you be. I'm not usually one to go against instructions from the big man himself, so getting your groceries and cooking today sort of keeps me in compliance. Now go get dressed, breakfast will be ready shortly."

In no time at all the delicious scent of omelettes, sausages, Bermuda onions and a traditional breakfast of codfish and potatoes wafted through the house. 'Nita seemed to know that Illya was not one for fish and had Canadian bacon ready for him. She had toasted breads and some of the fruit from the welcome basket diced and in a bowls served with clotted cream.

"Mmm smells delightful," Illya called, walking out dressed in a surprisingly colorful burgundy floral Hawaiian print shirt that Elliott had bought for him, a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and sandals.

"Boy you are in some desperate need of some sun?"'Nita laughed, eyeing Illya's very white legs. "Sit enjoy." She grinned at him. Elliott arrived right behind him in a bright yellow sun dress, her red hair piled atop her head in loose ringlets.

She eyed Illya up and down then smiled, "Thank ye for wearing that lyubov moy, I know ye have an aversion to bright colors.

"I do not mind burgundy, though I am surprised you selected this color since you have an aversion to my burgundy jacket sports jacket and have tried to toss it out a few times."

"I hate that jacket, "Elliott giggled.

"I know," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for selecting the clothing for me."

'Nita served their food along with some delicious flavored coffee then headed towards the door to leave.

"Are ye not joining us?" Elliott asked.

"Hey you're on your honeymoon...you'll be seeing as little of me as possible. Let me know if you need anything, channel F," she smiled, holding up a communicator. "And I mean anything, going out, having lunch, what ever. And don't touch a thing, I'll be back later to clean up!" She tried hedging to see if they'd give in.

"'Nita, we insist that won't be necessary. Thank you for the supplies, but really we can cook our own meals, it's something we were planning to do anyway. We can clean up after ourselves as well," Elliott protested. " We promise we won't tell the Old Man."

'Nita thought it over for a second. "If that's what you really want, I'll honor your wishes. I don't want to be intrusive."

"Not intrusive, very kind." Illya smiled, "We will take you up on the offer to go into town later, perhaps. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Sounds good and likewise." Anita waved goodbye, and was out the door in an instant.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well then what shall it be my darling" Illya said finally pushing his breakfast plate away. "A lazy day on the beach, snorkeling or perhaps a bit of touring the islands?"

Elliott laughed. "Isn't this glorious? Let's do a little of that touring, I'm feeling nosy today. It's a bit humid, so those motor scooters might create a bit of a breeze once we're away from the shore."

"Touring it is and will that be one scooter or two Madame Kuryakina?"

"What do _ye_ think?" She grinned at him playfully.

"Two," he said, just a little disappointed as he was hoping to have her snuggle up behind him on the back of his bike. He felt that she would be better protected that way, but she'd made up her mind and there'd be no arguing with her. Her independent spirit was one of the things he loved about his Elliott.

Illya contacted Nita' via communicator a short while later, and she let them know to meet her husband down by the hotel in twenty minutes.

They walked down to the main house where they spotted a man waiting beside a dark blue Morris Minor car. He looked to be in his late forties, very tan, and fit with just a hint of grey showing in the temples of his sandy colored hair.

"Hello!" He called to them, "Name's Nathan Saunders retired, you met my wife Anita. You can call me Nate by the way. Actually I'm not fully retired, the Old Man keeps me on reserve so to speak, but I was gone before you came on board, and I doubt you heard of me. My career with U.N.C.L.E. wasn't quite the spectacular and successful one you and your partner have, but I did my fair share in the field. Gotta admit, I still miss it, but giving it up for my Nita' was worth it! I have a little charter boat that keeps me busy, but still nothing like being in the field. I do some runs for U.N.C.L.E. now and then. Sorry I tend to ramble. I don't get to speak with too many of our organization's finest agents."

"The man could talk," Illya though to himself, with a wry smile.

Nate held out an identification card to alleviate any doubts, followed by shaking both Illya and Elliot's hands in greeting.

"'Nita mentioned you wanted to head into Hamilton for some scooters, so I'm here to ferry you there...this is all a favor to Alex of course. I miss seeing that old curmudgeon, how is he really? Still never sleeps?"

Illya and Elliott looked at each other with a smile. He knew Waverly alright.

Nate went on about some of his old assignments, and the fact that he was from the old days and had become friends of a sort with Waverly.

Both Illya and Elliott nodded silently, not really able to get a word in edgewise. He stated, "When Alexander Waverly asks for a favor, it wasn't something to be ignored,"and they both grinned, knowing that to be the truth.

He drove them into town, giving them what he called the nickel tour along the way, and left them at a local shop to rent their scooters There Illya and Elliott helped themselves to a fistful of travel brochures to help them explore the parishes.

They had a leisurely afternoon riding their about, playfully racing with each other as they headed out to Gibbs Hill Lighthouse that stood on a hill in Southampton Parish.

The structure itself was 117 feet tall and was the oldest cast iron lighthouse in the world. Illya wanted a better look at its architecture, Elliott wanted to take in the view from the top.

At her insistence, she climbed the 185 step spiral staircase to the top as the travel brochure said the view was spectacular, but along the way she had to put up with her husband doting over her.

"Good God, Illya I'm three months pregnant and I'm not in bad shape. Will ye stop worrying?"

That chastisement finally shut him up. He didn't want her aggravate her, with her hormones sending her off on a rant.

The climb, however, wasn't as difficult as it appeared, much to the Russian's relief. Elliott was able to take it easy, as going up the staircase there were eight floors with mini exhibits that described how the tower was built, along with information about the history of Bermuda, Illya stopped to read these and that forced Elliott to slow their ascent. There were also resting platforms on the way to the top that Illya coerced her into using.

Once reaching the upper balcony just below the powerful light, they had a spectacular 360-degree view of the south shore horizons. They could see to the west-end as far as the Royal Naval Dockyard, the great sound with Hamilton harbor and the city in the distance, and the homes, swimming pools, farm fields, seascapes of Southampton and Warwick... it was just wonderful.

Illya cocooned himself around her, putting his hands on the metal railing and rested his head on her shoulder, as they stood there, letting the warm winds blow their hair wildly about.

Elliott reached up with her hand, caressing his cheek. "This is brilliant."

"Yes it is." He answered lazily, kissing her palm.

They carefully walked the circumference of the viewing platform, taking in the full panoramic view.

"Ready ta go?" Elliott asked.

"So soon my love?"

She looked at him sheepishly. "I'm a bit tired after all, and a wee bit hungry. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." He took her by the arm, guiding her as the went down the wide staircase. After taking their time descending, they stopped into a teahouse that was located at the base of the lighthouse; it once having been the home of the former lighthouse keeper. The small restaurant was now run by his daughter.

The couple were seated at a small bistro table covered with a crisp white linen cloth and were served a full English afternoon tea, complete with Devonshire cream and homemade scones. Elliott, having one of her cravings for sweets ordered some fresh banana cake.

"Feel better?" Illya asked as he nibbled on a scone.

"Much, I guess I needed a little food, that's all."

"Do you want to continue touring...we do have six more days?" He asked.

"I'm fine, let's go back into Hamilton, I feel like shopping. Perhaps we can find some trinkets for the children and a gift for Bella and Napoleon for taking care of our brood?"

"As long as you are sure you feel up to it." He was not accustomed to seeing his wife's energy level drain so quickly, and wondered now if going on this trip, though lovely, might have been a mistake. His worries about something happening to her and the baby popped back into his head.

"Elliott, if this is all too much for you, we can go home."

She looked at him as if he had two heads. "Are ye out of yer mind? When will we get a chance like this again? I can see that look of concern on yer puss, now stop worrying...I'm fine."

Illya said nothing more as they climbed aboard their scooters, driving back to visit the city of Hamilton on foot. This time they road slowly, with no playfulness. Once they arrived in the shopping area of Hamilton, they parked the scooter and Illya indulged his wife, following her around as she explored the shops. He was feeling relieved as she seemed to be more energetic again.

She was not one for going shopping like this, though he didn't mind doing it with her. If one of the shops had been a bookstore he would have been more content, but he stayed silent and window shopped with her.

Elliott spotted an antique diamond pendant in the window of a jewelry store as they strolled past and mentioned to Illya that it reminded her of a long lost piece that had belonged to her mother.

He grabbed her by the hand, pulling her into the shop, and after a bit of negotiating with the shopkeeper, he placed the necklace around his wife's throat.

"Illya _nyet_, " she protested in Russian. "_Eto slishkom dorogo_it's too dear!"_

"The gentleman had good taste Madam, this is a platinum and diamond lavalier from the early 1900's and a quite a bargain at that."

Elliott looked at the price tag. 'No, no thank ye. I think not."

"_Mozhet li muzh ne daet zhene podarok_can a husband not give his wife _a gift?" he whispered, " _Pustʹ eto budet pamyatʹ nashego medovogo mesyatsa _let it be a remembrance of our honeymoon."_

"We will take it." Illya switched back to English, being uncharacteristically impulsive as he made the purchase.

She relented, looking at the piece around her neck in a mirror that the jeweler held for her." Oh Illuysha, tis' beautiful..._spacibo_."

"_Bolyee prekrasnogogorlo , chto ona ukrashaet_more beautiful is the throat that it graces,"_ he said, kissing her on the back of her neck.

They let Anita know they would not be coming back for a while, opting to have an early supper at a small bistro on Front Street in Hamilton. Afterwards they drove the scooters back to Heaven's Above, changing into their bathing suits, heading to Coral Beach down below the cliff.

Illya was wearing his old light blue bathing suit, and apparently had not discovered the Speedo suit she'd bought for him, or perhaps he had found it and refused to wear it, no matter, she'd get him into the bathing togs some how. "They are a treat for me after all," she mused.

They spread out a blanket, and a picnic basket that 'Nita mysteriously had ready for them with fresh fruit, cheese, crackers, small cold meat pies and a bottle of _Rum Swizzle _for their enjoyment.

"I like how this woman thinks," Elliott smiled as she sipped some of the wonderful local drink, though doing it in moderation, since it was alcoholic.

They applied a goodly amount of suntan lotion to each other's fair skin, settling in and staring out at the tranquil ocean as it washed in lazily to the shore line.

"It is pink" Illya remarked out of the blue, letting a handful of sand drift through his fingers, "because it is actually a combination of crushed coral, calcium carbonate and the shells of tiny single-celled animals called _Foraminifero_."

She stared at him for a moment, "Thank you for that edifying analysis Dr. Kuryakin, but can't ye just enjoy the fact that it's beautiful pink sand and leave it at that? Remember the discussion we had about looking at clouds all those years ago?" * She chided him.

"You are right, enough analyzing, it is beautiful pink sand and nothing more! And there are seventy-five miles of it for us to explore and enjoy!"

"Kind of makes ye want to give up being a spy, " she smiled, looking along the empty strand. This part of the beach was all theirs with no one there to disturb their peace.

Illya looked at her quizzically.

"No not really," she laughed, "Ye and I are two of a kind my Russian. She suddenly grabbed his hand, leading him across the sand to the water's edge, and pulled him down into the water. Illya rolled over on top of her, lowering himself to kiss her as the waves washed in gently around them. Elliott reciprocated, kissing back with equal enthusiasm.

"Ah, a little _From here to Eternity_ moment," she laughed softly, thinking of Bella's joke.

"What?"

"Never mind," she said, driving her lips to his.

Their embrace and peace were interrupted by the chirp of a communicator hidden in Elliott's straw purse...

.

* ref "The East Berlin Affair"


	6. Chapter 6

The doors to Alexander Waverly's office opened, revealing Napoleon Solo standing just outside them straightening his tie. Realizing he'd been caught unawares, he walked inside assuming an air of aplomb.

"Ah Mister Solo, so good of you to join us. Please endeavor to be more punctual?"

That deflated his usual confidence as he seated himself sheepishly at the circular conference table, joining the other section heads present as the Old Man began his briefing.

"Our sources have informed our Caribbean office of Thrush activity in their part of the world. It seems our feathered adversaries have been assembling what appears to be a new and highly powerful liquid explosive compound. It seems to have been manufactured in stages at different location, and this is apparently the final step in their development. Miss Rogers if you would be so kind?"

Lisa Rogers flicked a switch on the side console to the left of her boss, lowering a video screen from the ceiling.

"These films were taken at great cost," she said bravely, "The agent who smuggled them out was unfortunately killed and what was left of him was found washed up on shore after the sea life had at him."

There was an image of an unidentified man wearing a lab coat placing just a few drops of a clear liquid from an eyedropper on an unsuspecting hostage handcuffed to a chair. He quickly ran out of camera range but his voice could be heard counting down. Twenty seconds later the victim was gone, completely blown to bits as if he'd never been there.

"The existence of such a formula has catastrophic implications." Waverly said." If this is what a few drops can do, imagine the power of a teaspoon, a quart or a gallon of this substance for that matter...the destructive capabilities are mind boggling. No delivery system is required, it's a clear innocuous liquid, easily transportable and as you saw the usage quite simple."

"Our intelligence also indicates they have not fully completed the final manufacturing stage of the compound, so it is imperative that we stop them before they finish this process. It's preferable that we obtain any copies of the formula but we must destroy any existing samples of this deadly liquid at all costs."

"Where exactly are they doing this sir?"

"Bermuda, Mr. Solo."

"Bermuda, but that's where..."

"Yes I am aware that's where the Kuryakins are, shall we say, preoccupied at the moment. However, I am sending _you_ on this assignment, and you are to use what ever means necessary to accomplish your task, but under no circumstances are you to bring them into this. They are on their honeymoon and let them be, am I understood? I am putting this assignment in your capable hands and am sure you'll see it to a successful completion."

"Yes sir, and I agree. They're long past due for this trip and I wouldn't want it spoiled for them. Even though this liquid could just mean the end or the world," he muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"What was that you said Mr. Solo?"

"Nothing sir, just anxious to get going on the assignment."

"Very well then." Waverly lowered his pipe, as he tossed a packet with airline tickets in it. " You leave for Bermuda in three hours, good luck and keep me informed. Mr. Solo you are dismissed, the rest of you please remain for the budgetary review."

Solo left the office, ticket in hand and relieved he wasn't asked to stay for the rest of the meeting. He wondered how he was going to pull this assignment off as Bermuda was not a big place and having to do what he needed to do without running into Illya and Elliott would be difficult.

He'd have to get this job done and keep himself invisible from them at the same time.

Napoleon bit his lower lip, wishing he could bring Illya in on this one, being it was dealing with a type of explosive; it would be right up the Russian's alley. There'd been plenty of times in the past he'd bent the rules with the Old Man, but this was a direct order, and an order was an order. "Yeah, right," he muttered to himself.

He headed home to give Bella the news, pack a lighter wardrobe, see his little girls, and of course Demmy and Lala as well before heading out to the airport.

Leaving on assignment had become all the more harder for him because of his family, but he had a job to do. Bella understood that, Poly and Lucy were still small enough to not dwell on his comings and goings. Daddy was gone one day and back the next or sometimes the next week. They were happy to see him, and greeted him with equal, and innocent enthusiasm regardless of how long he'd been gone.

At least they would be occupied with Demya and Lourdes Mary, and that he found comforting. The most important people in his and Illya's lives, their children, would be safe and together under Bella's watchful eye.

"Are you sure about managing four children?" He asked, apologetically for having to leave her. "I could get someone to help you?"

"Napoleon Solo, I have managed to run emergency room triage and deal with cranky U.N.C.L.E. agents confined to hospital beds and they were possibly the biggest children I've ever met. Trust me I can handle three toddlers and one small boy. Demmy will be helpful, no doubt. And besides, it'll be practice for when your son is born, when that day comes," she smiled.

Napoleon hesitated for a second, not comprehending what she'd just said. "So you're not?"

"Not yet but If you play your cards and time it right, I think I'm ready for another baby."

"Really?" Napoleon took a second for that to sink in, then pulled his wife into his arms and kissing her happily. "A boy?"

"Does it really matter?"

"No, I suppose not, but a boy would be nice," he grinned, kissing her again and now not wanting to leave on his assignment.

"Let's start trying now," he whispered. He turned towards the bedroom door, and suddenly hit the floor with and "oof" followed by the yowl of a cat.

"God damned cat!" He cursed." Get out of here Boris! I really don't like that animal."

Boris lashed out with her claw, hissing her displeasure. She turned her back on him, whipping her tail as she waltzed away.

"I think the feeling is mutual," Bella laughed.

"You know, if a cat could look smug, then Boris has mastered it." Napoleon grumbled as he examined his trouser leg for any damage.

"Get in the bedroom and forget about the cat...we have just enough time, if you know what I mean?" she purred at him.

.

At the bequest of Aunt Bella, Demya was to keep the girls occupied as she and Uncle Napoleon needed a little 'alone time.'

The adults disappeared into the master bedroom, locked the door behind them and made love ever so quietly, so as to not call attention to the children and when their moment of passion had finished, they remained together in bed.

"Happy lover boy?" Bella whispered.

"More than I ever thought I could be. A boy?" Napoleon mused to himself.

"Hey don't get your hopes up, remember it's fifty-fifty."

"Thank you Bellisima, I think I recall that." He looked at his watch and cursed under his breath. "I'm going to be late!"

Napoleon propelled himself out of bed, heading to the bathroom where he took a quick shower and dressed. When he emerged, he found his

his wife had packed a travel case for him, saving time.

"_Grazie mia bella!_" He kissed her goodbye, more reluctantly than usual, looked in on the children, and headed to out the the elevator and down to the lobby with a definite spring in his step and a twinkle in his eye.

"Looking mighty happy today Mr. Solamente," the doorman called out before he hailed a cab.

"You've got that right Tommy," Napoleon grinned, slipping him a nice tip."

"Hey thanks boss, you have a great trip." He said, eyeing the suitcase in Solos hand.

Napoleon's head was in the clouds at the thought of a son, but he pushed that aside, focusing on the task at hand.

.

"Kuryakin here, " Illya answered the communicator.

"Tovarisch! How goes the honeymoon?"

"Fine? Napoleon is there a problem with the children? Surely you cannot be interested in what Elliott and I are doing down here? Though I have no doubt you have a good idea what that is."

"The children are fine. I was just giving you a head's up to let you know I'm coming down there."

There was a distinct pause. "With Bella and the children?"

"I wish. No the Old Man is sending me down to look into something, nothing really important. I just wanted to let you know I'd be there so that if you saw me...um, you wouldn't think I was there spying on you or something along those lines."

"You are many things Napoleon, but a voyeur, I think not? Why would Waverly send you when we are down here, could I not look into this matter since it is not anything of _significance_?"

"He didn't want you two to be disturbed, you know... honeymoon?"

"Right. And I suppose you are not going to tell me what it is you are checking on?"

"Nope."

"Be that way then. So when will you be gracing us with your presence?"

"I arrive tomorrow afternoon at three." He lied, knowing his flight would be arriving at three o'clock that day, figuring his partner would track him down regardless of Waverly's instructions, so giving himself a days lead would help keep Illya's nose out of things, but for a day.

"Where are you staying?"

"We are at the Horizon Plantation Estates, in the house at the top of the cliff. Why?"

"Well I figure I can at least stop by _tomorrow_ and take the happy honeymooning couple out to dinner?"

"Napoleon, that really is not necessary. I wish you would just tell me why you are coming here? Not even a hint?"

"Nope."

"I will meet you at the airport."

"Nice try. No I'll see you at your hotel _tomorrow_."

"Fine then." Illya said calmly."Please kiss my children for me?'

"Will do. See you _tomorrow_. Out." Napoleon was already at La Guardia airport, and rushed to the gate as the flight was already boarding.

Illya shoved the communicator back into Elliott's bag, glancing in her direction at her as she basked at the waters edge.

He had an internal debate going on as to whether he should tell her or not, but then Napoleon just showing up tomorrow out of the blue would be rather suspicious. He smiled, suddenly realizing his partner had given himself away and had said the word _tomorrow_, emphasizing it too many times. Whether it was deliberate or subconscious, it mattered not; he'd be there at the airport at three today, regardless of what his partner had said.

Elliott and Nita had somehow planned a little shopping foray into St. Georges, and that would be perfect. Nathan was stopping by to keep him company, not that he needed it; he would have been quite content to sit in a lounge chair by himself next to the pool with his nose buried in a book.

Illya shook his head, thinking there was an awful lot going on being it was only their first day in Bermuda...

Nate and his car would come in handy after all, but for not for something the retired agent would have expected. Illya was feeling a bit of self satisfaction at the thought of outmaneuvering his partner for once.


	7. Chapter 7

Napoleon gathered up his carry-on suitcase, waiting last to deplane as his usual precaution. He stepped to the top of the stairs, surveying the scene with a trained eye as he descended, and as soon as his feet touched the tarmac; he knew wearing his shoulder holster had been a mistake. It was far humid more than he'd expected, but removing his suit jacket wouldn't be an option at the moment. He'd just have to deal with it and would change into lighter clothing when he arrived at his hotel.

He walked through the small airport, seeking the exit to find a taxi that would take him to his accommodations at the _Princess_, a luxury high-rise hotel in Southampton, located not far from where the Kuryakins were staying.

To his surprise, upon stepping out of the terminal, he was greeted by a familiar blond standing with his arms crossed, leaning casually against a car.

He wasn't dressed in a style of clothing the senior agent could ever have recalled seeing his partner attired in. Illya was wearing a loose burgundy Hawaiian print shirt, khaki shorts and sandals, definitely not the look traditionally sported by the Russian.

Illya Kuryakin dressed as a Mongolian warlord or a little old Italian wine maker, and even Trotsky yes, but being off duty and looking like a California surfer, no. The fact that he was standing there spoke volumes, and he supposed he wasn't terribly surprised after all that Illya had figured out his ruse. Illya was clever, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how he knew.

"Fancy meeting you here." Napoleon smiled innocently, acting non-plussed at Illya's presence. He slipped on a pair of dark glasses.

"Pardon me, but your legs are awfully pale, you really need to do something about that chum."

"_Très drôle n'est-ce pas_very funny are you not. _For your information I have already been working on my tan today.

"Oh that's what you call it," He jabbed, noting the Illya's nose was a little pink. "Couldn't find another color shirt...burgundy? Say, you didn't bring that jacket did you?"

"Was that necessary? You realize that you are disturbing my honeymooning mood and I will have you know my wife bought me this clothing."

"Sorry but you just make it too easy sometimes...and how goes it?"

"Considering that we are here barely a day, fine. Now are you going to confess and tell me why you lied, as well as why you are truly here?

A man stepped from the drivers side of the car, bringing an instant smile to Solo. "Nate Saunders? What the heck are you doing here you old bum? He extended a hand to the retired agent. "Illya why didn't you tell me Nate was here?"

He opened his mouth to respond but Nate did it for him.'

"The Old Man asked the wife and me to keep an eye out for the happy couple, need I say more?"

Napoleon knew Nate took early retirement, and was surprised he hadn't been reconditioned, but then again, Waverly always had a few Aces up his sleeve. "The wife? So you did tie the knot, and _who_ was the lucky lady?"

"I think you've met her... _Anita Minor_?"

Napoleon swallowed hard. He did indeed remember that dark exotic beauty from the Caribbean office.

"You all right Napoleon? Nate asked, taking his suitcase, putting it in the boot of the car.

He cleared his throat, but maintained his composure. "Fine, just fine. Ugh, congratulations, she's a great gal."

"And I heard the great Napoleon Solo's heart had at last been captured by one woman."

"Yes Nate, I tied the knot and my wife and I have twin daughters," he said proudly.

"Impressive and congratulations to you as well. Maybe I should have hung in there and not retired early? Nah, the smartest thing I ever did was quit to marry my best girl. I have to admit I miss the intrigue, but not getting shot at."

"Amen to that," Napoleon replied.

They climbed into the car for the short trip to Napoleon's hotel; Illya being impressed when the name of it was given to Nate. "It figures when I am not with you; you get an upgrade," he grumbled.

Napoleon shrugged. "Umm, actually, I booked this myself. I'll use my chit to pay towards it and the balance out of my own pocket. Besides, there's really no low end accommodations in all of Bermuda, and this was the closest hotel to you that had an opening."

"And you could never upgrade such as this when we were stuck in some dump while on assignment?"

"Hey, I'm not made of money you know." Napoleon replied.

"Neither am I." Illya shot back.

"Yes Mr. _Cheapskate_."

"Napoleon, please will you stop with the digs and give me something reasonable to tell Elliott as to why you are here; she will not be as patient as I have been."

Solo clicked his tongue. "The Old Man sent me here to check on something Thrush might be up to, and I was told in no uncertain terms not to involve you two. He was quite adamant about that."

Illya said nothing as he sat with a stiff-lipped scowl in the back seat of the car while Napoleon got out with Nate to retrieve his suitcase. He stuck his head back in through the window to speak to his partner.

"Look, just tell Elliott I'm here for a courier drop, will that do for now?"

"There is not much choice is there?"

Napoleon shook his head, not wishing to engage in any further discussion. "Look I'll be by to pick you and Ellie up at say, seven?"

Rather than following Solo up to his hotel suite, Illya and Nate simply dropped him off; Napoleon stood watching as the dark car pulled away, knowing Illya wouldn't be satisfied until he found out why he'd been sent here.

Napoleon checked in, taking the elevator up to his suite and once there he pulled out a map, running through the possibilities of where to start looking for a place that Thrush might use a their base of operations.

Running his fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, he realized how many islands made up Bermuda and told himself this was going to be more difficult than he first thought. Why Waverly had made this a one man mission made no sense.

He removed his clothes, changing into a linen suit and short sleeved polo shirt that were muted colors to allow him to blend in. His Special was tucked into a holster behind his back, beneath his shirt and giving him the option to remove his jacket if needed. When all was ready he left the hotel, standing outside for a moment to put his dark glasses on again as the sun shined down on his face, before going about his business.

His taxi ride took him on a basic tour through Hamilton, but after requesting to see the less touristy and out of the way places; he began to get a few ideas as he unfolded his map and studied it again.

This was like looking for a needle in a haystack; not the first time he'd been in this situation and he suspected it wouldn't be the last.

After hours of searching and finding nothing that looked suspicious, Napoleon returned to his hotel to freshen up and change for dinner with the Kuryakins.

.

Nate dropped Illya back off at the hotel, and drove off in search of his wife and Elliott to bring them back from their shopping adventure. He wasn't sure about Illya's wife, but he knew his 'Nita could do some damage when she let loose in the shops of St. Georges.

Illya decided to take a quick dip in the pool, and dug out the new bathing trunks his wife had bought him. His brow furrowed as he held them up as they looked a bit skimpy. He stripped, and slipped into them, finding them snug but comfortable though he was shocked at how revealing they were when he looked in a mirror. He was accustomed to looser fitting bathing trunks, but shrugged it off thinking it best not to offend his wife's selection. There was one redeeming quality as she did, after all, choose black.

He dove into the deep end of the pool, paddling beneath the water, surfacing and swimming some laps before he walked up the steps to a lounge chair. He lay down, not bothering to towel himself off, letting the warmth of the late day sun dry his glistening skin.

Illya looked out over the azure blue waters below, watching with a pair of binoculars as the sailboats and glass bottomed boats glided effortlessly; they were returning to shore as the sun would be going down soon.

There was a large yacht anchored off shore; he guessed it was perhaps there for a vacation cruise, until his eyes caught a flash of light. The sunlight reflected off what looked like the muzzle of a rifle, with the man holding it having come up from below in the cabin, dressed in a dark t-shirt and shorts.

Illya tried adjusting the binoculars to focus on the weapon, but was unable to get a good look at it. The fact that it was there was suspicious, to say the least. "_Bog chyort vozʹmi," _he growled a curse under his breath.

There were small dinghies coming and going from the boat, carrying some sort of cargo from what looked like further up the coastline. Something didn't feel right about this at all.

If it was a legitimate cargo, then the yacht should have been anchored in the harbor at St. Georges, unless someone didn't want anyone to see what was being loaded onto the boat...and there was of course the armed man.

"See anything interesting darlin'?" The voice of his wife drew his attention away. He quickly stashed the binoculars below his chair. "Just sightseeing," he called to her. "The water is such a beautiful color, it reminds me of the Aegean."

Elliott was at the top of the stairs, juggling a few shopping bags, and he rose immediately to help her with them. "Let me take those, you should have called me to come carry them for you." he said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Ja-ysus Illya, I'm pregnant not a cripple."

He was taken aback for a second, then laughed at her as she willingly handed him the bags with a teasing smirk. She paused, admiring the Speedo that barely covered her husband.

"Hmm," she smiled slyly, reaching down, caressing him with her hand. "I knew that bathing tog would show you off nicely." She laughed at him as he blushed.

Illya put down the bags, suddenly grabbing her and lifted her up into his arms as if she weighed a feather, kissing her slowly. He carried her over to the pool, just as the sun was beginning to set, slowly removed her sun dress, kissing and caressing her skin until she was completely naked.

Elliott took hold of his bathing suit, pulling it down and caressed him with her tongue, teasing him to attention. They moved into the warm pool, making love in the water. Afterward, they remained in there, both still caught in the feelings of the afterglow. Illya held his wife, gently helping her float as he continued to nibble on her throat.

He stopped suddenly, looking a bit concerned.

"What's wrong?"

" I forgot, we have company coming. He looked at his watch, hurrying her out of the pool into the house to shower and dress for dinner.

"Who's coming, Nate and 'Nita...she didn't say anything ta me?"

"No, it is Napoleon."

"What's he doing here?" She called from the shower.

"He is here on a courier drop and wants to take us out to dinner."

Elliott peeked out from behind the shower curtain. "Courier drop? Seriously...Napoleon?"

"Yes, courier drop." He turned away for several reasons, trying not to look at her, as he was concerned she'd know he was lying as she'd gotten good at telling when he was doing so. If he looked at her wet body dripping with soap, he'd want to climb into the shower and make love to her again...but there wasn't time.

Elliott looked at him suspiciously, then ducked back behind the curtain, rinsing herself off and stepping out into a large soft bath towel he held for her.

Illya hugged her to him, caressing her pregnant belly before he stepped into the shower. "Love you," he whispered, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Love you too Russian." Elliott smiled, looking at his butt with a sigh as he stepped into the shower. "Hey ye are getting a bit of a tan."

"That is what I told..." llya bit his tongue, almost slipping that he'd said something to the effect of working on one to Napoleon.

They were both showered, dressed and ready when Napoleon arrived. Elliott was wearing a white cotton kerchief dress, with a white shawl embroidered with red roses to cover her bare shoulders. Her hair was pinned up, with a few stray red ringlets dangling from her temples and the diamond pendant Illya bought for her graced her throat.

Illya wore a beige linen suit over a pink polo shirt with matching beige shoes and the crowning glory, a straw fedora on his head.

"My, don't you look like you stepped out of a Hemmingway novel." Elliott teased.

"Good," he chuckled, "that was the effect that I was going for."

"Well don't be thinking about growing a beard please?"

"No worries there." He said, suddenly thinking to himself the he only time in his life he'd had a beard was when he'd been been held prisoner in the gulag.* That was a memory he'd sooner forget.

.

* ref "The Gambit Affair"


	8. Chapter 8

Napoleon arrived in by taxi exactly on time, and walked the lush, flower and vine-laden steps up to the private cottage where the Kuryakins were staying.

He stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs, admiring the floral display as well as the below ground pool that were lit up by small spotlights, along with the lovely pastel cottage. He smiled, nodding his approval of it all.

He chuckled, thinking of how much Illya Kuryakin had changed from when they'd first met so many years ago. Back then he would have turned up his nose at such decadent luxury, but little by little he'd embraced the west, but still managed not to become caught up in its trappings. He married Elliott, wanting to have his cake and eat it too, he had a family. He became a U.S. citizen and gone were the days of his comments of bourgeoisie this and that. Napoleon knew that was something he didn't miss about his partner, as gone were the judgemental comments about the American way of life.

Napoleon rapped his code on the door and it was opened immediately by Elliott. She greeted him with a smile and a hug and he produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back along with a chilled bottle of Stolchinaya.

"Ye came prepared didn't ye?"

"Of course...Ellie, you are positively glowing. How do you feel?"

"Wonderful, I'm glad we did this, as once the baby arrives it would have been nigh on impossible ta do afterwards. Illya made a good call for sure."

"A boy? You know for sure?"

"Bella didn't tell you?" She reached down, patting her baby bump. "Looks like he's going ta be a big one too."

"Picked out a name?"

"Yes, but not going ta say just yet," she smiled coyly.

He leaned in closer to her. "Keep this secret, but Bella and I are trying for another baby...a boy I hope."

"I'm happy ta hear that for the two of ye. I'll keep my mouth closed and my fingers crossed."

"Napoleon," Illya called from the kitchen, walking out with a tray of glasses filled with champagne. "This is really unnecessary you know...taking us to dinner that is."

"Hey the least I can do, and it's too good an opportunity to treat my best friends. I made my drop, and now my time is my own until the Old Man calls, well at least for a day or so. Bella said I should just hang out and unwind. It's a shame she couldn't get the time off, otherwise I would have had her join me...remember we never had a honeymoon either."

"But what would ye have done about the children?" Elliott teased.

"True, true. Ah the best laid plans..." Napoleon sighed wistfully.

Illya shot his partner his 'be careful' look. Too much information in a cover story could trip you up, and Elliott was too smart not to detect a manipulative lie if it became too complicated and obvious.

She didn't waste time, jumping on her chance to question him.

"So why _you_ on a courier drop where we happen to be honeymooning, one of my Section III agents should have handled such a trivial thing? Please don't tell me my assistant is having trouble handling..."

"Elliott, you know we go where we're told and do as we're told. It's not my place to question Mr. Waverly. And no, Agent Krupski is doing fine overseeing Section III. He's a very capable agent and juggles things quite nicely."

"That's the truth, but he does tend ta beat himself up when things don't quite turn out as he envisions, even though his results are usually very satisfactory." She said in all seriousness. He tends ta be a bit tough on himself, when he shouldn't be."

"Yes he is capable," Napoleon agreed. "There was a _minor_ incident with some of the trainees not cleaning up their messes, and the supervising agent miscommunicated a few things, but you know that's to be expected with greenhorns. Krupski stepped in and did a nice job of recouping."

"Napoleon, please no more talking shop." Illya lied, although his words were uncharacteristic for him." We are on our honeymoon and I do not want to hear anything work related if you do not mind?"

"Illya if my section is having problems, I'd like ta know about it." Elliott insisted.

"That my darling is precisely why I took your communicator away from you." The Russian smiled. "Section III will survive without you."

Elliott held up a communicator, displaying it proudly. "And that's why I stole yours. Ha! So there!"

Illya rolled his eyes as they raised their glasses for a toast.

"To love and marriage...and secrets." Elliott declared with wicked a smile.

"Here here," Napoleon agreed, as their glasses were delicately chinked. He wondered if she suspected champagne was finished off, and they headed out the door to the waiting taxi.

Napoleon eyeing the two of them, admired how they were dressed. "Elliott, you're stunning as always, but looks like you're going native parter mine."

"For the moment, you know how I like to blend in."

"Only if you get a good tan."

"I am _working_ on it." Illya sneered.

They made their way down to the waiting taxi, and climbed in." We're going to a place called Tom Moores,"Napoleon said to the driver. "I did a little research, and found out it's the oldest tavern in Bermuda, and was built in 1652."

"Dis a fine choice sir, vonderful place I'm told," the driver said.

"You've never eaten there?" Napoleon asked.

"No sir, ve onions don't go der," he spoke with heavier Bermudian accent."Won't run into no Aunt Haggies children der for sure."

Napoleon looked at him in dismay, not understanding the local way of speaking. Illya leaned over to him. "He's intimating the blacks are apparently not welcome as guests, and you won't find even any stupid people trying to dine there."

"Really, you got all that out of what he just said?"

Illya cocked his eyebrow with pride."You know I am good with languages and dialects."

"True. Perhaps we shouldn't go there then."

"Äye brajrin, ya cool, no problem," the driver interrupted. "Not many of da fancy places don't so no vorries mon. Das da way it tis' on da Rock."

"The Rock?"

"Das we name for Bermuja."

Napoleon decided to stick with his original plan, indicating it to the driver.

"I was doing some reading about this Tom Moore's," Illya said. "The property was owned by Samuel Trott when Tomas Moore, the Irish poet, came to Bermuda in 1804 and lived in the home. It is where he wrote many of his well known works."

"That's exactly why I picked it tovarisch. I knew you and especially Ellie would like it for those reasons. I was impressed when I heard the calabash tree to which Moore made frequent reference in his songs and poems still stands and is only two hundred yards from the Tavern."

Napoleon liked places that had a gentle sense of history and decided it was the perfect place to take his friends.

When the taxi pulled up it was easy to see the beautiful 17th Century building was in its original state. A simple two storied white stucco house with beautiful casement windows, arched entranceways, and a white roof; it was surrounded by palms and cypress-like trees, and of course the calabash tree was there in all its glory.

The trio decided, given it was a lovely evening, to dine out on the open terrace as it overlooked Walsingham Bay, though Illya was intrigued by the unusual fireplace inside the main dining area and recalled that it had been reconstructed in England for the Wembley Exhibition in London back in 1925.

Napoleon ordered more champagne, and lifting a glass he began reciting one of Moore's poems..."_Twas thus, by the shade of the calabash tree...the morn was lovely, every wave was still, When the first perfume of a cedar hill"_

"Aaaaah yes," Elliott smiled,"_Sweetly awakened us, and with smiling fairy harbor wooed us to her we stole before the languid wind,Through plantain shades that like an awning twined,While far reflected, o'er the wave serene, each wooded island sheds so soft a green,that the enamoured keel, with whispering play,through liquid herbage seemed to steal its way." _Elliott turned to her husband, gazing into his eyes as she leaned on her elbow.

For a moment, Napoleon felt like an intruder, barging in on what seemed a private moment for his friends, but there was no way around it as there had to be an explanation for him being in Bermuda, one that would keep them from trying to become involved in his investigation.

Elliott being a master of the unexpected, caught him off guard, going from quoting Moore's poem and looking languidly into Illya's eyes, to suddenly asking a direct question.

"So Napoleon why are ye really here? I don't buy your courier drop story." She smiled innocently, batting her blue eyes at him.

He huffed, looking at his partner first. "No you're right, it's not a courier mission. I'm here to check into some suspected Thrush activity _and_ I'm under direct orders from the Old Man not to get you two involved."

Illya snickered. "You are getting soft my friend, you caved in much sooner than I expected."

"Well it's hard to lie to one's best friends."

Illya suddenly coughed, choking for a brief second on his drink. "Right..." he mumbled under his breath.

"What is it that Waverly suspects Thrush is up to?" Elliott then asked, not missing a beat.

"Sorry, nice try, but that's on a need to know basis, and neither of you need to know." The first course of foie gras arrived brought a close to further discussion of the mission. Another bottle of champagne was ordered, leaving the drinking to the boys, while Elliott had a sparkling water with a twist of lemon. She was limiting her alcohol intake to just a sip here and there.

Illya passed on the traditional Bermuda Fish Chowder and the other fish-based soups, while Napoleon and Elliott both ordered some. They were served arugula salad, marinated artichokes, Parma ham with shaved parmigiano, and a lemon vinaigrette.

For the main meal they all decided on the roast quail, with mushroom goat cheese tarts and a port wine sauce. Conversation was kept on the lighter side with the Kuryakins discussing their planned activities for the rest of their stay.

The dinner plates were cleared and dessert was ordered; Elliott opted for Banana bread pudding with caramel ice cream and hot fudge sauce while Illya selected a chocolate mousse cake with a passion fruit raspberry sauce.

Napoleon decided against dessert, claiming to be watching his waistline, though he enjoyed watching the happy couple feeding each other tastes of their sweet desserts.

The night finally came to a close and the taxi returned the Kuryakins back to the Horizon Estates. Before exiting the car Illya turned to Napoleon, bringing up the assignment one more time.

"Remember my friend, regardless of what Waverly said, I am here and if you need me...you call."

"And that goes for me as well." Elliott added.

"Thanks you two, but that won't be necessary and that goes double for you young lady." He tapped Elliott on the tip of her nose with his finger." Remember you're not alone." He pointed at her tummy.

"Yes Napoleon I know, and as I said to my husband earlier, I'm pregnant, not a cripple."

"Enough said," Napoleon ended the discussion. "Good night you two and happy honeymooning. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That my friend can be taken a few ways," Illya said as he closed the car door, leaning in the window, waiting for Elliott to take a few steps away out of earshot.

"Be careful Napoleon, and remember I have your back if you need me," he whispered, not wanting Elliott to overhear.

.

* ref "The Gambit Affair."


	9. Chapter 9

Illya and Elliott watched as the taxi drove off; deciding to head down to the beach to walk off the evening's repast. Removing their shoes; the two walked hand in hand along the soft sandy beach under the full moon, finally stopping under a large volcanic rock formation resembling a Bermudan _Moon Gate_ where they embraced each other.

Though this was a natural formation, the water having eroded the volcanic rock over the centuries created what resembled the famous man-made Moon Gates scattered across the islands, They had their origins in China, where they were a circular opening in a garden wall that acted as a pedestrian passageway, and a traditional architectural element in Chinese gardens.

Moon Gates were introduced to Bermuda in the late 19th century but the Bermudan Moon Gate differed slightly from the original Chinese design, as it was often left freestanding or attached to a low wall, instead of being a passageway. It was regarded as good luck for newlyweds to step through one of these gates.

Illya and Elliott took advantage of that luck, walking through the natural opening as they continued towards the waters edge with their arms wrapped around each others waists. They kissed again, cocooning in each others arms to the sound of the gentle waves washing ashore.

Illya's ears perked up to the roar of a small boat engine, and he tilted his head as he glanced out towards the water, looking over Elliott's shoulder and seeing the dinghies again as they passed, by while he continued to kiss his wife.

He said nothing to her as they strolled back to their cottage and decided he would speak to Nate to see if he could find out what was going on with those boats.

.

The taxi pulled away, and on the spur of the moment, Napoleon acted on one of his hunches telling the driver to backtrack and take him to the Crystal Caves located not far from Tom Moore's.

He took a twenty pound note from his billfold, tore it in half, telling the driver he'd get the other piece once he returned from exploring the caves. He added that if he hadn't returned in forty five minutes, to return to the Horizon Estates and fetch the blond fellow back here.

"_Eez me up mon. I don't want be getting caught by de police, it's after hours here_." He held out his palm, indicating to the American that he needed more money to make it worthwhile. "_A few more pahnds mon, just in case I need to duck 'n peeze._

Napoleon got that he wanted more money, but was lost on the last part.

"Duck 'n peeze?"

"Beat a hasty retreat mon."

"Oh, got you." Napoleon smiled. "How's this?" He pulled out another twenty, tearing it in half as well. "Same deal with this."

_"Well if the coppers come den, I tell them don't ax me, I was just takin' a quick nod between calls."_

"Fine then, remember if I'm not back you do as we agreed.

"If you not back who be payin' me de pahnds den?"

"My friend the blond will see to it."

The taxi driver nodded, rubbing the two halves of the money between his fingers.

Napoleon headed off passing through a sub-tropical garden lined with palm trees and filled with a variety of trees and flowers and a sign that indicated the cave was nearly 36 meters below the ground level. At the entrance was a locked wrought iron gate, and he made quick work of it, opening it with his loc pic.

The walkway, lit by small lights descended slowly, and he listened carefully for any signs of life, but only heard the steady sound of dripping water coming from the stalagmites into the pools of water that surrounded him. There was a pontoon bridge that crossed a larger pool of that was crystal clear as the spotlights illuminated it.

The view was actually quite spectacular, as the many formations were spotlighted, showing the intense red, orange, green and white colors of the stalagmites and stalactites. The formations from the ceiling and from beneath the water created an eerie image as he continued to slowly make his way along.

He reached the entrance to the secondary cave that was cordoned off with several warning posts.. That was the one that he was interested in, the fact that it was no longer open to the public made it an ideal spot for Thrush to set up shop.

Napoleon drew a small flashlight from his pocket, as the climb down was quite steep and climbing down became more precarious. The Fantasy cave was a virtual jewel box filled with even more amazing displays of nature. There was a chandelier like cluster of soda straw formations at the ceilings and the entire walls were covered with mineral deposits that looked like frozen waterfalls. Sadly, there was no sign of any occupancy by Thrush.

Napoleon sighed, checking his watch for the time as he began his ascent from the cave, disappointed he'd come to yet another dead end. The walk back up was a little cumbersome and tiring, and he was glad to reach the outside garden, as well as to see his taxi still waiting for him. He pulled the pieces of the pound note out of his pocket as he opened the car door.

"_Find what ya need mon_?"

"Not exactly, no." He said, handing the money to him. " Take me back to the Princess please."

"_Righto mon._"

Napoleon returned to his hotel feeling a bit frustrated, and opted for a nightcap before heading up to his room. He eyed a lovely young brunette at the end of the bar, thinking there was a time he wouldn't have hesitated to send a her drink, strike up a flirtatious conversation and take such a woman to bed. Those days were gone now, and he was surprised at times that he didn't miss them, even though making love to so many beautiful women had definitely been an enjoyable pastime. He knew his libido was driven by loneliness, but he wasn't lonely anymore now that he'd found his Bella. She changed his life forever, and for the better.

He ordered and downed a scotch, ignoring the brunette as she tried getting his attention, gazing at him longingly with her hazel eyes. He had the bartender send her a drink, and smiled, giving her a little bow as he left the bar, heading up to his room for a good nights rest.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day with a lot of leg work to be done around the next spots he'd decided were likely locations for Thrush to have sequestered themselves. If he didn't find anything soon, he would contact Waverly and request assistance from the Caribbean office in his search.

Napoleon dressed in a luxurious pair of silver-grey colored silk pajamas and climbed into his soft and welcoming bed. He thought for a moment about Illya's jibe regarding the upgrade. "Was he being a little greedy doing something like this when his partner wasn't around?" It wasn't meant as a slight to Illya, and he reminded himself to make sure he apologized, just in case he had really been offended.

He mapped out his plans in his head, deciding he'd head up to St. Georges and check it out, as well as the harbor.

Napoleon finally closed his eyes, drifting off to a restless sleep; his lack of success on this assignment so far was weighing heavily on his mind, as well as his need to avoid to avoid Illya and Elliott.


	10. Chapter 10

The happy couple headed off to bed, after finally feeling the after effects of the sun, the meal and an abundance of champagne that made Illya sleepier than usual, at least that's what he told Elliott.

She too was feeling spent from other things as well, the afternoon of shopping, their lovemaking in the pool and of course the wonderful late supper but she was unwilling to admit it was her pregnancy that was making her wanting to sleep more than anything. The walk on the beach sapped a good portion of her energy, but she had just enough left for a little surprise for her husband.

Once in the bedroom, Elliott slipped into the black chemise she'd purchased, while Illya undressed. When he turned to ask her something, he stood there naked, pausing for a moment, as he stared at her while she stretched out on the bed like a cat.

"Do ye like it?" She asked demurely, making sure she showed off the garters and stockings with a provocative pose.

"Most definitely," he practically growled as he crawled in bed beside her. "I thought you were tired?"

"Not for this my love," She smiled at him seductively, as she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

Illya responded, taking his time as his hands roamed along her petite body and caressing her breasts with his tongue.

She too let her hands and lips wander, bringing her to that part of his anatomy now standing at attention. She laughed as she touched him, tickling him with some of the ostrich feathers on the chemise and making him moan in anticipation. As Elliott had predicted to Bella; he removed her flimsy garment quickly, the garters and stockings, however, he left in place.

He helped Elliott to position herself comfortably, then entered her from the side, ensuring no weight would be on her abdomen. Lifting one of her legs as he balanced himself on his knees; he let his hand run along the smoothness of her black silk stocking as it touched his chest.

He made love to her slowly and passionately, moving in unison with her in such a way that only familiarity could bring.

"Faster," she whispered.

"Nyet, slower is better, you will see," he whispered back to her. He kept a steady rhythm, teasing her with his fingers as he moved, and felt her excitement rising. Still he moved slowly, deliberately holding himself back.

Elliott arched her back as she climaxed, letting out a cry of satisfaction, it was then he groaned, mingling his own pleasure with hers.

"Oh God that was good," she laughed softly."Slow was better...mmm."

"Mmm, da. Have I ever told you how wonderful you feel?"

"Yes, but tell me again," she giggled.

They made love once more, and as they lay in each others arms enjoying the afterglow, they briefly discussed a plan to call Demya and Lourdes Mary in the morning.

The children had been long accustomed to both their parents disappearing for prolonged periods of time, but since their mother took over as chief of Section III, she was with them everyday as she no longer was in the field. For that reason, Elliott's disappearance with their father was of concern to her, fearing it would cause the children some upset, even though they'd been assured their parents would gone only be a weeks time.

Both Demya and Lala were looking forward to the telephone call from their Mama and Papa, as promised.

The Kuryakins were also concerned at the havoc that might be wreaked on the Solo household. Appollonia and Lucine, the Solo twins, were known for being mischief makers, and could lead easily lead Demya and Lala like pied pipers into one thing or another.

Nothing bad, but guaranteed something messy.

Bella was more than capable of handling them, there was never a doubt there, but still four children of above average intelligence were capable of coming up with some creative devilment.

.

As soon as the Kuryakins closed their eyes, they were both sound asleep, laying in each others arms and snoring just a bit, like an old married couple.

Illya, however, was feigning sleep and carefully slipped from Elliott's arms and put on his robe. He crept outside with the binoculars for another look out over the water, trying to spot the dinghies, but there was no sight of them now. The yacht however was still anchored within view but he was unable to make out the name until the billowing clouds had moved past. Moonlight helped give him his answer.

"Calypso," he said out loud. There was no outward sign of movement on the yacht, and satisfied with that; Illya returned to bed, snuggling up to his wife.

"Mmmm, you alright?" She whispered, half asleep.

"Fine, just needed to use the bathroom...go back to sleep my sweet." He nuzzled her neck, pulling her next to him, closing his eyes, as visions of Calypso filled his head.

.

It was a little known place on Ireland Island, completely overlooked by visitors, called the Lefoy House, named so after a famous Bermuda Governor and historian. Its historical significance was that it was built in 1819 as the Royal Naval Hospital, and in its Dockyard days was the shore-based hospital. Once the British Navy abandoned the Docks in the 1950's, it was virtually ignored as it was out of the way, and a distance from the Dockyard proper at the tip of the South end of the island that jutted northwards in the parish of Sandys. It was a perfect little hideaway, just the kind T.H.R.U.S.H. liked.

"That's it for the night boys," A man called out to them from piers side as they tied up the dinghies. "We'll have more batches done over the next few days and once we load them all on board we're done with our part of the operation."

He offered a hand up as the men climbed from the boats to the sea wall.

"That'll be a relief to get out of this dump. We've been lucky that no one has spotted us," one of them said.

"A dump for us, but not for the boss," another complained.

"That's why he's the boss," Runyon countered. "This wasn't so bad, with all those sail boats and tourist traffic on the water, we blended in just fine. This operation has been a piece of cake."

"Runyon!" Sneered a man who came up behind him."Quit that ridiculous chatter and get out of sight. I don't want to take a chance on anyone seeing us here."

"Yes sir Dr. Madison, right away sir."

"And Runyon, I want you and the men to go through everything inside and start cleaning up. Once the last batches of the formula are ready I want to clear out of here. There is to be no trace of us ever having been here what so ever...is that understood? Now get moving! I am going to see Mr. De Lossier."

"Yes sir, we'll get on it right away."

Madison opened the drivers side door to his black Morris Minor and climbed in, starting the engine and sending a cascade of gravel into the air as he took off.

"Man, I'll be glad when that son of a bitch is gone, " Runyon hissed. "I'm so sick of his I'm better than you attitude, but De Lossier scares me, he's one crazy dude."

"Me too," grumbled one of the others."But at least with this job done Central will be happy and we'll get paid a bonus for completing it early, right Runyon?"

The man looked at him, lying boldfaced. "Yeah right." There'd be a bonus, but Runyon planned to keep it all for himself; once the job was done his crew were dead men.

.

The next morning Napoleon was up and about early, maps in hand; ready to start his next search in St. Georges and work his way across the main island. He'd already ruled out the majority of the smaller islands as they were actually too visible, and none of them had any sort of structure where the Thrushies could nest.

His first stop in St. Georges was the_ Unfinished Cathedra_l outside of the town. The church stood as testament to what happened when church people get to fighting. In this case, they "split" and the church was left incomplete and St. Georges was left with a shell of a gothic cathedral built from Bermuda coral blocks. Napoleon found it interesting that he could get right in and walk amongst the pillars and walls.

There was grass growing where the floor should have been, but there was no sign of any secret entrance. It made for an interesting walk out of downtown St. Georges but it too was a dead end. He scratched that one off on his list. The landscape of Bermuda was looming larger than he first thought.

He rented a boat, deciding to check locations offshore, and headed first to _Castle Island_, one of the main islands in Castle Harbor. Remnants of an early 17th-century fort still stood there, and the island doubled as a nature preserve, casting the rubble of the fort as an impracticality overtaken by nature. This location too proved to be his third dead end.

Next, Napoleon took his boat to _Nonsuch Island_, another wildlife sanctuary but a place that tourists rarely went to. This too led him nowhere. Lastly he went to _Ordnance Island_, previously operated as an ammunition store when Bermuda was first settled, but he soon discovered that it was used as a busy terminal for arriving cruise ship liners. Too visible and busy a site for Thrush to use.

He motored away, heading back to St. Georges, but dropped anchor just off shore, pulling his communicator.

"Open Channel D-Waverly." He leaned back, pushing up his sunglasses and resting them on his forehead, yet scanning the waters carefully with his eyes.

"Yes Mr. Solo, what have you found."

"At the moment sir, nothing. This is going to take a bit longer than I anticipated. There's simply too much ground for me to cover."

There was silence.

"Sir?"

"Yes Mr. Solo, I am still here. I am contemplating sending you some assistance."

"Sir, as you know Nathan and Anita Saunders are here, perhaps I could enlist their help?"

"And how is it you are aware of this Mr. Solo?"

"I umm, ran into Illya and Nate was with him. I told them I was here for a courier drop."

"Yes, mmm, quite."

Napoleon could hear the Old Man sucking on his pipe.

"Yes that would work well Mr. Solo, hmm yes. You have my permission to bring the Saunders in on this one. Nathan and Anita have a good handle on the lay of the land, and I'm sure their local contacts will be useful. However, may I remind you, not to get the Kuryakins involved in this. Out."

Napoleon shook his head, wondering why Waverly was so adamant about keeping Illya and Elliott out of the loop


	11. Chapter 11

"Illya woke up early the next morning, and after a quick skinny dip in the pool, he made breakfast. His intention was to serve it to his wife in bed, but the smell of ham and eggs and coffee brewing brought Elliott sleepy-eyed from the bedroom.

The windows were open all night and the fresh air made for a deep restful sleep, even thought she was tired from the previous day's activities, though the nocturnal one had been well worth it .

"Smells good," she yawned as she leaned against the bedroom door frame dressed in nothing but her clinging white robe that left little to the imagination.

"Good morning Madame Kuryakina."

"Can't believe I didn't wake up when you got out of bed. I must be slipping, but then I suppose being out of the field isn't helping...and being preggers too." She walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he was turning the ham steak in the frying pan."

"Are you trying to distract me Madame? If so, you are doing quite well at it and I think breakfast could be ruined."

Elliott giggled like a teenager, "What do ye think?"

He peeled her arms away from him, giving her a quick kiss." Food first, then sex."

"Ye and yer food, sometimes I think ye _do _have a one track mind, or at least yer stomach does." She tried pouting.

He rubbed noses with her, and gave her a love tap on the bottom. " Go sit at the table. Wait until we are done eating and then I will show you just how focused I can be on one thing."

Elliott's friskiness was tempered only by her tiredness and she complied without protest, sitting down at the table that had already been set.

Illya brought over platters with the ham, scrambled eggs, rye toast, and of course served the coffee. They normally drank tea, but he thought the extra jolt of caffeine might do them a little good.

They both dug into their food with enthusiasm, but Elliott stopped as soon as she ate a bit of the meat. She smiled, instantly recognizing a favorite flavor of hers. "Now how did ye manage to find _Saucy Susan_ down here? I don't recall it being in the grocery bag that 'Nita brought us."

"My secret, and I will never tell." He flashed her his crooked smile, one that Elliott thought made him look rather impish.

In truth he'd smuggled a jar of the peach- apricot sauce in his suitcase, knowing they'd be doing some cooking at one point.

"Ye are a sneaky one aren't ye?" She said, popping another piece of the ham into her mouth.

The conversation changed and they discussed the day's' activities, deciding to stay there at the cottage and just be lazy rather than doing any sightseeing until the afternoon, if at all.

Illya had the comings and goings of the boats in the back of his mind and would call Nate to do some investigating; once that was done he'd make his decision to Napoleon should it be warranted. He was in the middle of an assignment and didn't want to jump the gun, sending his partner on a wild goose chase if it was bad intelligence.

Elliott picked up her plate with the remnants of her meal and moved to the sofa, curling up while she continued to eat, as Illya had finished before her and was cleaning up after himself.

He walked to a front window as a soft breeze made the curtains flutter. It looked to be a magnificent day and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

"Annushka, it really is beautiful, perhaps we could stay by the pool, or walk down to the..."

He turned to see she'd laid her head down against a cushion, and was asleep again...that made him smile. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her back to bed and tucked her in. This pregnancy seemed to be affecting her differently than her first two and was sapping her energy, or perhaps it was just all this wonderful fresh air...or maybe both.

Her falling asleep was opportune though and after Illya quickly dressed; he walked down to the hotel office, putting in a call to Saunders.

"Illya, good morning. What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"Nate I have noticed some odd goings on in the bay that have aroused my suspicions, perhaps it is nothing but an agent is never off duty completely. Could you check on the registry of a yacht called the Calypso, out of Jamaica."

There was silence for a moment at the other end. "I suppose I could check inot it,, but this better not get back to Waverly. I don't want it somehow falling back on 'Nita and getting her in any trouble"

"Do not worry my friend, just do it to satisfy my curiosity, that is all."

"Not going to tell me why this particular boat has caught your interest?"

"No" Illya smiled. "Contact me via the main desk at the hotel, nothing on communicators please."

"Will do." Nate laughed, "Hey this almost feels like I'm back in the field again."

"Do not get carried away," Illya warned before hanging up the receiver.

He looked at his wristwatch, noting that it was nearing the time to call the children and he put a leg under it, heading back to the cottage to wake Elliott and bring her down to the the office. None of the private cottages had telephones, not even to call the desk. Those who stayed at this particular cottage colony wanted complete privacy.

.

"Papa!" Lala squealed. "I miss you and Mama. When are you coming home?"

"I know my sweet, Papa misses you. Remember I told you we would be home in seven days...how many days have passed since we left, can you count?

"Two Papa."

"So how many days are left?"

There was a pause. "Five."

"Very good, well done. Now are you and your brother being good for Aunt Bella?"

"...Daaa."

Her slight hesitation and responding in Russian meant only one thing, something had happened, and no doubt Lourdes figured she'd be in trouble for it. Her father always spoke to her and her brother in Russian when it was a serious matter and the children responded in kind to him.

"_Chto sluchilos_what happened?_" He asked cautiously.

"_Ya chto-to slomali_ I broke something"._

"And that was?"

"A vase with flowers in it."

"And how did this happen?"

"Poly and Luci and Demmy were playing keep away with Breda bear and I tried to get her from them and fell against the vase and..."

"Were you hurt?"

Elliott's eyes went wide when she heard that, and tried to snatch the receiver from his hand."What happened to my baby?"

Illya turned to her, mouthing the word "_Stop_," and returned his attention back to his daughter, repeating his question. "Lourdes, _Ty ranen_were you hurt?"_

"_Nyet_ Papa, only the vase, but we saved the flowers," she said proudly. "Well a couple got broke but Aunt Bella put the good ones in another vase."

He smiled at her answer, deciding not to correct her English. "Well I want you to behave, no more horseplay and breaking things. Da?"

"Daaa...I'm sorry Papa, I didn't mean to do it." At this point she sounded as if she was near crying.

"It is all right, accidents happen. Do not cry my sweet, now say hello to your Mama and when you are done, put your brother on the phone. I love you _moy angel._"

"I love you too Papa." She sniffled back the tears.

Elliott took the receiver and the recounting of the broken vase was given again. When Demya was put on the line with his father, there was a strict lecture in Russian about teasing his sister and a reminder not to let Appollonia and Lucine lead him into mischief.

"Have fun, but keep it under control. Remember you are the big brother and should set a good example." Illya made sure that he told his son he loved him and that eased the boys concerns about being in trouble.

Once the children were done speaking with their parents Bella got on the line. "Illya it was just an accident, children get carried away when they play, it's no big deal. It was just a vase."

"Still it is not right, they broke something and it will need to be replaced."

"Trust me it doesn't. I'm actually sort of glad it was broken, as I hated it. The vase was ugly but I didn't have the heart to get rid of it since it was a wedding gift from George Dennell. I know he went to a lot of trouble to pick it out. Now if he asks, I can tell him honestly that it was accidentally broken."

Illya laughed at hearing that, knowing exactly the vase she was talking about. He remembered the first time he saw it in the foyer, thinking to himself at the time that it was indeed an eye sore. George's tastes left something to be desired.

"So how's the honeymoon going, you two having fun?"

"What do you think?" He snickered. "Thank you again for watching the children, and Boris. I really hope there will be no more incidents of a destructive nature. Here, Elliott wishes to speak to you." Illya handed over the receiver again to his wife for she and Bella to chat.

He wandered over casually to the desk manager, asking if there were any messages for him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Manning, you have one from a Mr. Saunders." He handed Illya a small card.

"Boat is registered to a Gilles Alexandros de Lossier, an important feathered friend." He folded the paper, stuffing it in his pocket just as Elliott came over to him.

"What's that?"

"A note from Nate, he asked if I'd go do a little fishing with him." He said sheepishly. "I should say yes, that is if you do not mind? I know you wanted to rest."

"You don't fish." Elliott squinted at him suspiciously. "Ye get seasick."

"I do not want to insult the man as he and Nita have been so kind to us."

"Suit yerself, but don't complain ta me when ye aren't feeling well. And what time is this fishing expedition ta take place?"

"This afternoon."

"Oh good, ye can come back ta bed with me then." She giggled, leaning in and biting his chest.

"And you make comments about my appetite for food?" he snorted. This pregnancy had made his wife tired, but definitely more amorous. "So should I call you _mo_ _chailín adharcach _ my horny girl?" _He spoke to her in her native Irish.

"Ye can call me whatever ye want, me randy Russian," she purred, as she led him by the hand back up to their cottage, and to bed.


	12. Chapter 12

Napoleon anchored his boat at the pier and made his way along the charming streets of St. George's. Bermuda was such a picturesque and placid county, moving along at a leisurely pace to the beat of it's own drum. He could see why it was so popular with honeymooners. Leave it to Thrush to sully such a place with their shenanigans.

He wondered if Bella would like to come here one day, once the non-native bird population had been cleaned out of course.

He found himself a small bistro, ordered lunch and asked to use the house phone, calling Nate Saunders.

"Napoleon, I'm am retired, but if the Old Man okay'd this, it's fine by me. There is something I can tell you, but I'm afraid you may have to bring Illya in on this."

"Oh really why is that?"

"He contacted me this morning having noticed some strange things going on in the bay off of Southampton."

"What strange things?" That bit of information piqued his interest, as his partner wouldn't bother with something unless it seemed highly suspicious.

"He wouldn't say, he just wanted the registry information on a yacht called Calypso. Napoleon the boat is owned by a high ranking Thrush agent named Gilles Alexandros-de Lossier."

Napoleon recognized that name instantly. He'd been on U.N.C.L.E.'s watch list for some time and was known for having his fingers in a lot of Thrush's operations. "Have you given him the information?"

"Yes I left him a message at the hotel lobby, but haven't spoken to him."

"Guess I'll have to Nate. You just be on standby in case I need you, all right?"

"Fine with me Napoleon, thanks." The line disconnected, going to a dial tone.

"Excuse me sir," a waiter stepped up behind him, "but your lunch is ready."

"Thank you, I'll be right there. If you could just point me in the direction of your men's room."

Napoleon disappeared into the washroom, jamming the door closed and pulling out his communicator. "Channel F- Illya Kuryakin."

"_Yes_ Napoleon?" His friend answered with a bit of attitude.

"Am I calling at an awkward moment?"

"No, I am out by the pool and Elliott is napping. Why?"

"I'll be there in about forty five minutes, don't go anywhere. Out." Napoleon opened the bathroom door, just as a patron was pulling on the handle to get in and finding it unmoving. "Ugh, the door sticks, " he said, sauntering past the man who'd nearly fallen down.

Napoleon had ordered _Hoppin' John_ and _paw paw Montespan,_ a savory dish of black eyed peas, top round ground beef cooked with tomatoes and paw paw, served with a generous helping of rice. Paw paw was a smaller and less sweet version of the papaya.

Though the food was delicious,but he pushed his plate aside, not finishing it as he was anxious to get to Southampton before his partner did anything. He paid the bill and headed off, finding a taxi for the nearly half hour ride to the Kuryakins hotel.

When he arrived and climbed to the top of the stairs to _Heaven's Above_, Napoleon laughed out loud seeing how his partner was dressed as he stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the bay with a pair of binoculars.

"You've got this thing about dresses don't you?" He teased. The Russian was wearing a long black and tan bamboo patterned cloth wrapped around his waist.

Illya was getting enough of a tan that his skin flushing red at the remark was barely perceptible.

"That is so wrong." Napoleon laughed.

"No Napoleon, it is a _sarong_, and my wife bought it for me. So enough with the dress remarks, they are getting old. Or would you prefer I removed it and be in the buff...again."

"No, that's fine," Solo snickered, though he had to admit Illya being tanned and oiled looked pretty good in that thing. Napoleon smiled, as the cold hearted Russian had come a long way and found the thought of Illya sunbathing in the nude rather amusing.

"So what brings you here, I thought you were on your _top secret_ assignment?"

"You. Waverly had me bring the Saunders in on this one and Ned told me about the yacht. You should have called me."

"Napoleon, I was not sure of anything and I would not send you off without verifying my information...but of course since it is _my_ intelligence, I will investigate it myself."

"Of course," Napoleon smiled, not surprised his partner had managed to weasel his way into the assignment. "You know the Old Man wants you left out of this."

"What Waverly does not know, will not hurt him."

Napoleon shook his head. "Let's keep it that way, I don't want to end up doing field evaluations in the arctic."

"You have my word, my lips are sealed. Now what sort of plan have you formulated?" Illya looked positively eager.

"You're enjoying this aren't you _tovarisch_?"

"But of course."

"And Elliott?"

"...does not have to know." Illya cocked his eyebrows.

"Wait a minute, didn't you tell me you told your wife pretty much everything?"

"This is something she need not know. Elliott is a gifted agent and she would want to get involved as well but given she is pregnant; I am not willing to risk both her and our unborn child, regardless of devotion to duty."

"That's going to be a neat trick."

"I told her that I would be going fishing with Nate this afternoon, so we have that window of opportunity to do some investigating. Perhaps 'Nita could come keep my inquisitive wife company, as well as distracted."

"What else have you observed going on with this Calypso. What caught your attention?" Napoleon sat in one of the wicker chairs by the pool, with Illya joining him."

"I was looking out over the bay, and noticed these dinghies coming and going to the yacht, seeming to off load some sort of cargo on board. I thought that rather odd, as cargo would usually be handled in one of the harbors on the island given there are customs requirements and such...unless of course they did not want anyone to see what they were doing. There is that and the fact that I saw someone on board who was armed with a rifle; this also raised a red flag for me. The boats were travelling unnoticed among the tourist boats on the bay and arrived every half hour or so. Usually two at a time and coming from the far end of the bay. I am guessing from there," Illya pointed, "it is the northern tip of the island, and where the old Royal dockyards are located. Much of that area has fallen into disuse so it might be a cozy place for some birds to nest."

Illya offered his partner a bottle of ginger beer from a small cooler, but he declined. "I have shared what I know with you, so now are you going to tell me what your assignment is?" Illya asked before taking a swig from his bottle.

"All right, fair is fair," Napoleon surrendered, possibly against his better judgement.

"Thrush is manufacturing a new and extremely powerful liquid explosive compound. I saw a film of a test subject blown to smithereens with just a few drops of it put on him. If that is only what a miniscule amount could do, the power of a teaspoon, a quart or a gallon of this stuff has far reaching implications in the hands of T.H.R.U.S.H. It's a clear, innocuous looking liquid, and it seems easy to transport since there's no delivery system needed for its use."

Illya leaned forward while resting his elbows on his knees. Explosives were his forté, and anything new had his undivided attention.

"Intelligence indicated the location here is the last step in completing manufacturing process. I...we need to find that location, a copy of the formula, confiscate and destroy..."

"Hmm, this is a conundrum." Illya interrupted, "If it is _that _powerful, we will not be able to blow it up if they have sufficient quantities stockpiled. The explosion, though I am sure spectacular, would far be too dangerous and could cause much destruction."

"Exactly my friend. We need to find the lab, and we need to see how much, if any, of the compound has been loaded onto that yacht." Napoleon finally took a bottle of beer from the cooler. "Then we can figure out what to do with it."

"So we have a accord you and I." Illya winked, holding out his beer and chinking it against his partners bottle.

"You sound like the Caribbean is rubbing off on you."

"Technically Bermuda is not part of the Caribbean..."

"Please, no long-winded lectures right now tovarisch?"

Illya just laughed at him.

"Here's to conspiracies," Napoleon toasted. He finished his drink and headed off to make arrangements for the use of Nates boat and to find some diving gear. "I'll have Nate pick you up in an hour."

"Napoleon, do not forget to ask 'Nita to come with you."

"Sure thing. Hey you better get out of the sun, you're starting to look like a boiled Russian lobster."

"I am _too white_, I am _too red_...you are never satisfied are you? And it is crabs in Russia, not lobsters,"Illya groused jokingly, but Napoleon was too far out of earshot to hear him.


	13. Chapter 13

In a compound with a with a six foot wall surrounding it, stood a two story lemon colored house; meticulously appointed with a lush garden and marble statuary resembling Grecian gods and goddesses.

Gilles Alexandros De Lossier, a man nicknamed _Cyclops_, having been being born with a right eye. Where his left should have been was just a flat fold of skin that should have been his lid. He seemed proud of his deformity and never wore an eye patch to cover it.

De Lossier lived there in an apparent life of luxury. He had many such homes around the world and at the moment being in Bermuda suited his latest scheme.

He was a man of mixed French and Greek parentage and was one who loved his creature comforts, travelling with his entourage no matter where he went, whether it was for pleasure or on Thrush business. He enjoyed the finer things in life... designer clothing, gourmet food, luxurious accommodations and beautiful women.

His personal bodyguard, a very large man of Samoan extraction was called Aries, named after the Greek god of war, as he could easily crush a man's head between his monstrous hands. His hair, as black as his master's was tightly pulled back into a ponytail.

He was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of Bermuda shorts with the requisite white knee socks and black shoes, remaining silent behind Gilles.

Standing like a statue with his arms crossed in front of him; Aries muscular biceps hid some of the intricate tattoos on his chest. The designs were done in the Polynesian style of body art that resembled a sort of armor. Across the top of his back, with its wingspan spreading from shoulder to shoulder was the image of a stylized stingray.

Draped on chaises surrounding De Lossier were a trio of women, all with silver grey hair.

His _Graiai_, Gilles called them, after the three _Grey Sisters_ in Greek mythology who were described as fair faced and swan-like but these modern day Graiai were exotic and as deadly as their namesakes.

De Lossier casually draped himself on a divan, smoking a cigarette held in a long holder, blowing puffs of smoke into perfect circles that wafted slowly into the air as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his long dark, silky hair. He picked up a black cane, made of ebony with a silver handle in the shape of a swan and began to twirl it absent-mindedly.

Yet it moved in his hand as if it was and extension of him, part of the person that was Gilles De Lossier.

Deino sat closest to him and pouring a glass of red wine, she handed it to him moving gracefully, her name meant Dread. Her sisters in service to Gilles were Enyo, whose name translated to Horror, and Pemphredo... meaning Alarm.

"Serve me Enyo," he said. The woman, stepped forward with a tray of tidbits held them out to him. Gilles reached over, lazily choosing an appetizer of goose liver paté. He popped it into his mouth with a sound of satisfaction.

"My compliments to our chef." he smiled, raising his glass of Rum swizzle in mock tribute. It was a local favorite, still not a fine drink like cognac, but he liked it none the less.

Dr. Madison stood waiting in front of him, remaining silent until he was finally bid to speak. If he said anything without permission, Gilles wouldn't hesitate to hit him with that damnable cane.

"So tell me how the operation goes today with my delicious compound?" Gilles finally asked, having left the doctor standing there long enough, watch him with amusement as he shifted his weight from one foot to another until he was acknowledged.

"Yes sir Mr. De Lossier, everything is going as scheduled. Dr. Blake has told me the last batch of the formula will be finished by tomorrow. I must add that doing the manufacturing process in several different locations was a stroke of genius, it kept us running smoothly and without interference. As soon as the rest of the completed formula is ready, I'll have it safely loaded onto your yacht and ready to ship."

De Lossier detested this man, he was the sniveling, always offering his compliments in an effort to ingratiate himself. "And the closing down of the lab?" He asked, ignoring the man's attempts to sound more important than he really was.

"Is all set sir, once it's been emptied there'll be a fire at the dock, destroying everything. There will be no trace we were ever there."

"And the others?"

"Will be seen to as well sir."

"Good, you see that it's all done properly and you'll have an extra bonus on top of the original one promised to you. Now leave me, you're becoming tiresome." He dismissed the doctor with a wave of his hand.

"Yes sir, thank you Mr. De Lossier, sir." Madison backed away, leaving the room quickly.

"Aries?"

"Yes boss?"

"When everything is completed, see to it that Dr. Madison meets with an unfortunate accident. No need for any loose ends. I have the formula, and can get new staff to serve me if the need for more of it arises, though I doubt there will. Once my demonstrations of its capabilities are made, the world will be Thrushes...and mine to command." He laughed maniacally.

The Samoan smiled, not saying a word but simply nodded his acceptance of his assigned task.

"Gilles," purred _Deino_, "You wouldn't get rid of me would you?"

"_Dread_ my dear, you have nothing to fear from are worth ten of any men like the good doctor."

"Only ten?"

De Lossier laughed out loud. "That is what I love about you, you never hold anything back."

"All the more to please you Gilles." She draped herself over him, straddling his lap, joined by both Enyo and Pemphredo, as they covered him in kisses while they began to slowly remove his clothing.

He came up for air. "You may leave us Aries...I think my _Graiai _will _take _good care of me."

"As you wish sir." He bowed, closing the doors after himself. Aries though dismissed, remained outside protecting the Thrushman's privacy.

.

Elliott came out of the bedroom, finding 'Nita seated on the sofa reading a magazine. She was surprised she hadn't been awakened, but then 'Nita was an U.N.C.L.E. agent, and she had a feeling she was a good one at that. Yet she wasn't Section II, and wondered why.

"Hello, what are ye doing here?" Elliott asked lazily.

"To keep you company, Illya asked me to stay with you while he's gone fishing with Nate. You don't mind do you, it's not like I'm babysitting you." 'Nita smiled broadly at her, patting the couch." Come on sit down, I'll make us some tea."

"Tea would be lovely thanks." Elliott flopped onto the couch, snuggling up to one of the large throw pillows. She looked at her wristwatch, noting that she's slept through lunch, and was surprised she wasn't hungry."

'Nita had the tea ready in minutes, and brought the colorful porcelain floral cup and saucer over for Elliott along with one for herself.

"Maybe this'll help wake me up a bit. I can't believe how sleepy am. When we arrived I had all the energy in the world if ye know what I mean, now it's all I can do ta stay awake. My hormones are going a bit off I think, and poor Illya.. this isn't turning out ta be quite the romantic honeymoon he imagined...me falling asleep on him.

"Honey, how far along are you in your pregnancy?"

"Three months. I have two other children and those pregnancies didn't do what this one's doing ta me...guess I'm just getting older I suppose. I'm not in the field anymore so I've sort of let working out like I used ta fall ta the wayside."

'Nita looked her up and down. "You look in great shape to me, but three months you say? You look a little farther along than that."

"Yes I know, he's going ta pretty big boy I suppose."

"So you know already." 'Nita laughed, "does Illya?"

"Yes, this'll be our second son. Ye have any children 'Nita'?"

"No, Nate and I haven't been blessed, but I come from a large family so there's lots of nieces, nephews and cousins around all the time. There's times I feel a bit left out, but I'll survive. I'm still young enough, you never know."

"That's true 'Nita we tried for a long time for a second child without any luck, then we got our little surprise when we weren't expecting her. So don't give up, ye never know."

"Are you hungry yet Elliott?"

"Not really, but I know better. I'll eat something anyway...want to go into town? I think a good walk might help wake me up.'

That's the last thing 'Nita wanted, she couldn't take a chance on Elliott seeing Illya with his partner and Nate as who knew where they really were.

"Would you mind if we stayed here, I'm actually a little tired myself. You know all this fresh air can tire you out if you're not used to it. I imagine in New York City, you don't get fresh air like this."

"That's the truth, though I do get ta the park with my Demmy and Lala whenever I can."

"Demmy and Lala...those are unusual names. Are they Irish?"

"No Demmy is a nickname for Demya...it's Russian, my daughters name is Lourdes Mary...Lala for short thanks ta her brother."

"Lourdes Mary, what a beautiful name. What does she look like?"

"She's a redhead like me, sort of like me in personality but I tell ya, she's her papa's little girl. Demya...now he's the spitting image of his father and same personality in many ways."

"They sound like great kids."

Elliott laughed. "Kids...that reminds me of something I said to Illya not too long ago, I called the baby a new Kurya-kid and he became quite upset that I was referred to our next child as a baby goat."

That gave them both a good laugh as 'Nita insisted on preparing a light summer tomato salad with brie and Bermuda onion, something to tide them over before the trip into Hamilton. 'Nita presented Elliott with a not so light slice of rum cake made with Bacardi, pecans, vanilla pudding and applesauce in a white cake.

Elliott swallowed a forkful of the sweet confection. "Oh good Lord, that's sinful it 'tis."

"Got your appetite back I see."

"When it comes to sweets, they're my craving. 'Nita did ye make this?"

"Yes it's an old family recipe. Would you like it?"

"Oh yes, please?"

'Nita was on edge and hoped Elliott wouldn't notice. Having to keep her occupied was going to be tough, as who knew how long the men would take on their fact finding expedition. She decided to get Elliott to talk about some of her assignments as a New York field agent.

Elliott McGown-Kuryakin was not one to be fooled easily and knew she was being nicely distracted. She said nothing, but knew her husband was up to something. Illya would never spend the day out on a fishing boat, even to be polite. The fact that Napoleon was in Bermuda for an assignment that he felt the need to lie about added to suspiciousness of the situation. He fessed up, but why did he lie in the first place?

It was obvious that 'Nita was meant to keep her occupied, albeit it was enjoyable, but still Elliott had no doubt in her mind the lads were being deceptive, and 'Nita and most likely Ned were helping.

She would bide her time, and let Illya have his fun at the moment, but eventually she would get at the truth of it from either Anita Minor, or himself.


	14. Chapter 14

"Bermuda boat charter is not exactly cheap." Nate Saunders smiled. ' But if you want exclusive experience of spectacular scenic views, Atlantic marine life, coral reefs, shipwrecks, and combine it with activities like snorkeling or kayaking, Bermuda boat chartering is the way to go." He was rather proud of the little business he'd set himself up in his retirement from U.N.C.L.E. still not exciting, but still, it made him happy.

Nate's boat was anchored on shore line along Coral Beach, safely out of view from _Heavens Above_. The white hulled craft was nestled securely on the waters edge as Illya climbed in, not looking too happy about going on a boat, but had resigned himself as there was no choice.

Napoleon took a quick look at the boat, then called to Nate. "Nice, a Boston Whaler I believe,"

"You know your boats, Napoleon."

"He should,"Illya mumbled, "He owns a thirty foot yacht."

"A thirty footer, that must be nice." Nate beamed.

"I enjoy it."

"Well, my little rig here is nothing compared to that, she's just a little over thirteen foot. But she does me right, as I have a nice little charter business taking the tourists out to enjoy themselves, and you meet all sorts of interesting people in the process."

"What's her beam?" Napoleon asked, admiring the blue interior and simplicity of the craft.

"Just a little over five feet."Nate said, giving the boat a shove off the sand into the deeper water. She's got a forty horsepower outboard and can seat six. She does well enough in the bay, but can't handle the ocean. He started up the motor, turning the boat and heading out into the bay.

Illya occupied himself inspecting the diving gear while the others talked boats for a few more minutes, until Napoleon turned his attention back to him.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes the equipment looks satisfactory enough."

"No, I mean with you. How's the stomach?"

Illya was not his usual shade of green when on the water. "I am fine for the moment, I made sure I took Dramamine before we left, as well as some ginger tablets."

"Wait, you took Dramamine? Doesn't that stuff make you drowsy? Who are you and what have you done with my friend, " Napoleon teased.

Illya let out a laugh, and held up a small pill bottle. "New,_ non-drowsy_ formula."

"Good lord a God send for you. Ah the miracles of modern medicine."

"Indeed, but in this case it is the pharmaceutical industry." Illya cocked his eyebrows before putting the bottle back in a small duffle bag he'd brought with him. "I am going to change into my bathing trunks" He pulled out a black bathing suit, and stripped without a moment's hesitation.

Napoleon did a double take at the tight fitting Speedo."This is a new look, no more baggy trunks? Don't tell me, let me guess... your wife bought them for you."

"Correct." Illya grinned.

.

'Nita looked at her watch and assumed by this time the men were motoring their way out into the bay. She realized, like it or not that it was time to get Elliott away from the the cottage. If for some reason she decided to step outside and use the binoculars to look out on the bay, trying to spot the Illya and Nate while they were fishing, that could be a problem.

"Elliott, I'm a getting a bit restless afterall, and getting hungry. Are you up to heading into Hamilton for some shopping and a late lunch? Depending what the boys do or don't catch, we may need a backup plan for supper. I doubt they'll want to go out to eat as an afternoon out on the water will tire them out. I know it does to my Nate.

Elliott snickered. "I was surprised Illya said yes to the fishing trip as he can get terribly seasick even on the calmest of waters. So I'm sure he won't be feeling up to going out, nor eating fish for that matter." Elliott lied so smoothly.

"Illya doesn't like fish? That's odd for a Russian."

"I'll tell you this, but never mention it ta him. Illya had been imprisoned in one of the gulags in Russia and the food served prisoners was mostly a foul fish broth. That experience has given him an aversion ta most seafood.

"What about lobster and shellfish?"

"No he's alright with that...and pretty much any other food."

"Yes he does have a hearty appetite..."

Elliott laughed out loud. "Go ahead 'Nita finish it...for a man who's so skinny. He does get a bit tired of hearing that, I must admit." She headed to the bedroom, changing into more comfortable clothes for walking. Bringing with her the large straw hat and the matching straw shoulder bag to hide her Walther, and communicator.

They hopped into the blue Morris Minor for the twenty or so minute drive to Hamilton, and after parking the car they wandered the streets of Hamilton, leisurely strolling among the quaint shops and finally stopping for a bite at the _Hog Penny Inn_.There was a bit of a delay as the restaurant was busy, and the two women sat on an outside bench looking at a menu while they waited.

"Mmm the Johnnycakes sound delicious," Elliott said.

"Corn-meal pancakes, served with peas and rice are a fairly traditional dish here. I think you'll enjoy them, but I for one am in the mood for some conch fritters. We'll have a fine meal tonight if Nate and Illya catch some good rockfish. They served with butter and wine sauces and the fillets will be out of this world. I'm hoping they'll bring in some red snapper too, as I can make a mean snapper casserole for later in the week."

"Hmm, sounds good ta me, but we'd better pick up some meat...lamb perhaps, as Illya will eat fish to be polite, but why force him? Illya and I are here, after all, to _enjoy_ ourselves _aren't_ we?"

"I understand,"Anita said, feeling that Elliott's tone was alluding to something, but worried was she just being paranoid after all she didn't know Elliott well.

" After we go to the festival we can visit the local butcher to pick up some meat for your carnivore. I cook a mean lamb. Maybe I'll pick up some mussels and make a pie too. Would he eat that?"

"Stop 'Nita! Yer makin' me starving with the hunger. I hope we're seated soon. _Tá an-ocras ormsa_! and he'd probably eat shellfish...I think?"

"What language is that?"

"Irish, just said I was really hungry. Owww," she said, grabbing her abdomen. "My not so little one just gave me one heck of a kick... guess he's hungry too!" Elliott laughed. She looked out at the street that was becoming more and more crowded.

"There's a great childrens store nearby, " 'Nita said as she sipped her ice cold rum swizzle. "Shame you can't have one, the swizzle is our national drink."

Elliott smiled wickedly."I can have a wee sip."

'Nita passed her glass to her, and after tasting the beverage, Elliott smiled. "Mmm, that's good alright."

"I'll get a few bottles for you to take home with you," 'Nita' smiled. "That way you and Illya can have a taste of Bermuda...once you have the baby that is."

"Ah sure that's a brilliant idea."

After eating their lunch, the women headed out into the town to find that children's store. Elliott got it in her head to bring some trinkets home for Demmy and Lala, as well as the Solo twins. She reminded herself to pick up something for Bella and Olga as well, after all Christmas would be coming soon. Thank you gifts and Christmas gifts from Bermuda would be perfect. 'Nita' suggested to head to the Floral Pageant fair as it was nearby, they'd be sure to find some interesting local craft at one of the many booths.

They wandered along the surprisingly crowded streets, passing one of the most recognizable images in Bermuda, that of a police officer often referred to as the 'Bobby In the Birdcage'. Though it did in fact resemble a birdcage, 'Nita told Elliott the platform from which officers directed traffic was actually named for its designer, named "Dickie" Bird, the then Corporation of Hamilton Engineer in 1962. Prior to that time, when it became excessively hot and the sun was streaming down, the Constable on duty had to make do with an adjustable umbrella.

This particular Bobby seemed to be in a bit of a frenzy, directing traffic furiously, making the few cars and many motorbikes turn around, and seemed to be deliberately sending them out of the city of Hamilton.

"Are the streets usually this crowded?" Elliott asked, noting a large group of black people walking past with what seemed like a sense of purpose.

"Oh that's right," 'Nita said, "I forgot, the Floral Pageant is going on, there's a parade not far from here with beautiful floats and displays made from flowers. It's to show off flora of Bermuda to the tourists, but the locals take great pride in it all, There's booths we can visit too, you might find some interesting gifts for the children. If you're tired, we don't have to see it today as the festival goes on for three days.

"There's another event happening as well, though I doubt you'd be interesting in that one. It's College week here, I think the Yanks call it spring break and it attracts tourists and thousands of students from colleges and universities from the USA and Canada. There's some pretty wild beach parties at the Elbow Beach Surf Club and the parties at the Bermudiana, Inverurie, and other hotels. The students are notorious for unruly behavior, some have had the audacity to steal policemans helmets, and they speed down Bermuda's roads on scooters without wearing helmets, swim in large groups across Hamilton Harbour and have impromptu beach barbeques, and overload the party boats...they do keep the police busy to say the least..

The crowds suddenly became more animated, crying out and chanting as they surged forward. 'Nita and Elliott stepped off the bench and the next thing they knew, they were swept into the the wall of people that now filled the street. There were screams as mounted police rode through the throngs of people as what now seemed to be developing into a riot. People were beginning to run, and a moment later there was a loud explosion and smoke filled the air."What's happening?" 'Nita called to a woman being pushed beside them.

"Der bannin' blacks from the festival, vhites only," she said, flashing Elliott a dirty look.

'Nita grabbed another a woman by the arm, demanding to know what was going on.

"There's a riot at the fair, you people just aren't happy are you?" She spat.

"What do you mean _you people_?"

"You blacks are protesting unfair treatment again. As if you aren't integrated into Bermudian life enough. Now there's a race riot, buildings are on fire! People are getting hurt." She looked directly at Elliott, " I suggest you get out of here Madam as they are targeting whites." She pulled her arm free of 'Nita's grasp and took off down the street.

There was a sudden rush of people, like a human wave, now heading in the wrong direction, pushing Elliott and 'Nita along with them in the direction of the fires and dotted the crowds with their white pith helmets and blue uniforms, slamming people with their batons and arresting rioters by the dozens. Those who'd been beaten down were hauled off in police wagons and ambulances.

"We have ta get out of here," Elliott screamed at 'Nita over the din of screaming crowds. She pulled her Walther from her purse as did 'Nita, keeping the weapons out of sight and hoping not to have to use them but prepared themselves to do so if needed.

They struggled to free themselves from the frenzy, when 'Nita suddenly went down; struck in the head by a Bobby.

Elliott reached for her, and was pushed to the ground and she curled up in a ball trying to protect herself and her baby from being trampled. She let go several tranquilizer rounds, darting people who where stomping on her, before she was struck in the head. She was half conscious when she felt herself being lifted before she passed out.


	15. Chapter 15

Ned anchored the boat far enough from the Calypso so as to not seem obvious and alert the other boat to what they were up to. While he and Napoleon gathered up some fishing gear and threw out some lines to put up a distraction, Illya had already donned the diving gear and slipped quietly over the far side without so much as a splash.

The water was crystal clear, and filled with brightly colored sea life as the Russian swam to the bottom near the green sea grass that swayed gently to and fro in the currents, helping him keep from being seen. The bay reminded him of the turquoise blue of the waters around Santorini, especially when a sea turtle lumbered past him, paddling effortlessly to propel itself forward. *

Purple urchins dotted the sandy bottom and an arrow squid shot out from the grass beneath the Russian, as his his black flippers may have startled it.

The marine life was abundant; swimming north with the warm waters of the Gulf Stream to find their way to the waters of Bermuda. Illya found himself instantly surrounded by colorful tropical fish, with no fear of him what so ever. They darted around, poking at his face mask and when he reach out with his hand, they didn't hesitate to come right up to it.

His mind wandered to his wife, thinking she would love this...snorkeling had been one of the things on their to do list, and hopefully this situation would be resolved quickly and he could get back to his honeymoon with her.

As he swam onward a coral reef, teeming with more sealife loomed closer. The reefs were famed for their unique beauty, but could also be treacherous to ships.

He located the hull of the Calypso and paddled up slowly alongside it, pulling out a listening device that he attached to the hull. He pressed his ear trying to listen in on the conversation via a tiny transmitter he's lodged inside the ear canal, then covered with an earplug to protect it from the water.

"_De Lossier's pushed up the completion schedule. He wants the manufacturing done and everything loaded by tomorrow and the site cleaned."_

A second voice replied. "_It would make it a lot easier if we would anchor near the lab, I mean the docks are right there. We waste a lot of time motoring back and forth to the fort, when we could just tie up the big boat right there. After all,_" he snickered, "_we have Neptune and his trident standing guard."_

"_He's adamant about it, and doesn't want the Calypso seen anywhere near the base. If there was a problem this boat could take off without being noticed. So stop your complaining and your wiseass remarks."_

"_Always have the answers don't you Runyon?"_

_He smiled at the man. "That's why I'm in charge idiot, now get back in the dingy and keep the deliveries coming. We don't want to upset Mr. De Lossier do we? He might send Aries to teach you a lesson." _

Illya was caught unawares and nearly jumped out of his skin when he was suddenly nudged by a bottlenose dolphin. It was the smaller of the species known to inhabit the waters closer to shore in Bermuda, and due to the tourist trade seemed to lack all fear of humans.

Illya quickly ducked under the safety of the hull, but then spotted the reason why the dolphin may have bumped him.

Not far from the yacht was a group of blue sharks, easily identified by their colored slender body, with a deep indigo blue across the back, shaded to a vibrant blue on the sides, and paled to white underneath. They had large, almost lifeless eyes and he watched as they darted gracefully, with their tapered bodies and elongated caudal fins, providing swimming power as they sought their prey amongst the sea life.

This was not good and he watched cautiously, trying not to move too much in hopes of not being targeted as their next meal. That was when he heard the men above, onboard the yacht call out.

"_Hey we got some sharks here! How about some target practice?"_

The next thing Illya saw were rifle bullets whizzing down through the water, creating a trail of bubbles and hitting one of the sharks. Blood drifted everywhere as the other predators sensed it, zeroing in on their dying brother to begin their attack.

Illya took off in the opposite direction, giving his compass a quick look and hoping he wouldn't be the next victim of the target practice, or the feeding frenzy.

He swam quickly, trying not to look back, praying he'd remain invisible to the shooters and the sharks. A few of the small dolphins seemed to sense his panic, flanking him as if to protect him, and burst to the surface with him to the far side of Nate's boat, out of view of the crew of the Calypso.

He threw his flippers in first, then hoisted himself on board, while Napoleon and Nate blocked the view of his movement from the crew of the yacht. He remained hunched down on the deck as Nate started up the engine, and steered the boat towards shore.

The dolphins surfaced, letting out a few squeaks and clicks as if they were saying goodbye before the returned beneath the surface of the water.

"Illya you all right?" Nate called to him.

"I am, though I was not happy about being a potential practice target." He answered, still trying to catch his breath.

"They weren't firing at you?" Napoleon asked.

"Nyet...sharks in the water. I had to get away before I was mistaken for one as well, or possibly eaten. I did have a very nice escort from the dolphins."

"Those creatures seem to like you where ever we run into them, don't they?" Napoleon smiled as he gave his partner a hand up. "Did you get to do any eavesdropping?"

"Yes, I am afraid we will be hard pressed, as they plan to finish up their operation in one more day."

"Any clue as to where the base is located?" Napoleon spoke while helping his partner remove the oxygen tank from his back.

"They were very accommodating and mentioned a fort...Nate I know there are many in Bermuda but they mentioned docks and something about Neptune and his trident standing guard. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Sure does, there's a fort that's part of the abandoned Royal docks on the northernmost tip, on Ireland island, it's one of the largest, called the Keep. Given that's the direction the dinghies are coming from; I'd bet dollars to doughnuts it's where they've set up shop. There's a big statue of Neptune holding a trident right out in front of one of the buildings. It makes sense as it's not a popular destination on the tourist circuit. They could pretty much operate there without being noticed."

A distant explosion caught their attention and they turned to it, watching as clouds of black smoke billowed into the sky in the direction of Hamilton. "That's one hell of a fire," Nate said. "We haven't had anything big like that in a long time. The size of the black clouds were increasing exponentially.

"Let's hope that's all it is," Napoleon mumbled suspiciously as they pulled the boat up on shore. He was worrying that De Lossier might have started testing out his compound.

"We had best get back Elliott and 'Nita so as not to rouse suspicion." Illya said. "And I have some supplies that we might have use for." They hopped into Nate's car, quickly arriving at the Kuryakins hotel.

"What sort of supplies?" Napoleon asked.

"Oh, just some explosive compound, detonators..."

"You brought that stuff on your honeymoon?" Napoleon was aghast at this partner.

"One must always be prepared." The Russian smiled mischieviously, "honeymoon or not."

As Illya stepped out of the vehicle Napoleon announced in no uncertain terms that he was heading up to the fort on his own.

"You are not going anywhere without us." Nate and Illya chimed in together.

"Napoleon, please," Illya spoke firmly, "this is not a one or two man operation, give me a few minutes to distract Elliott, otherwise you will have five people trailing after you on this operation instead of three."

"Not a bad idea actually..."

"No, I cannot speak for Anita becoming further involved, but my wife is pregnant and I will not risk she and the baby by bringing her into this. How could you even think that?"

Napoleon took his chastisement in silence, and not receiving a rebuttal, Illya disappeared up the stairs towards the cottage.

"Elliott? Anita?" He called out, searching the house. He found a note from his wife. "Illuysha, went with 'Nita into Hamilton to shop, will be back shortly to prepare dinner for us all. Am sure you're tired from the water and hopefully not too sick. Love you, E."

That did not make him happy, though he knew Anita had a backup plan to keep Elliott further distracted in case she had started asking questions, he'd hoped after hearing the explosion and smoke coming from the direction of Hamilton, that the pair had not gone there.

Keeping his concerns in check; he gathered up some miscellaneous wires, detonators and explosive putty as well as a shirt with exploding buttons he always kept hidden in his clothing and luggage.

He returned to the car, joining Napoleon and Nate and they took off for the Thrush satrap.

"So what did you tell them?" Nate asked.

"Nothing...they were not there. They went shopping in Hamilton, and expect us back for dinner, which gives us a few hours before they, or I should say Elliott becomes concerned. I hope they were not anywhere near that fire..."

"Anita is ready for that, " Nate interrupted. "She has a cover story for us that we prepared, saying I called her and told her the boat broke down on the bay and we'll be late getting in." And as far as the fire was concerned; he reminded Illya the ladies could take care of themselves, but the Russian noted a look of concern in Nate's eyes as well.

Illya nodded his acceptance of the plan Another lie... though it was his decision to do this; he still did not like deceiving his wife, but new it was for the best.

Nate turned on the car radio, as the trip to the docks would take at least a half hour. There was no point in discussing what the plan was until they got a good look at the place. There were several buildings out there, Nate told them, that would be likely targets.

Tuning the radio in to _NRS Bermuda_, the Naval Radio Station Bermuda, Nate played with the dial until he got the station he wanted.

"This is a special announcement, a state of emergency has been declared for Bermuda. Riots have erupted in the city of Hamilton. Police are attempting to bring the situation under control, but numerous fires and explosions have occurred. An unprecedented 48-hour ban on anyone leaving Bermuda is now in effect, with the airport being shut down. There will be no entry or exit until peace has been restored. Residents are advised to stay in their homes and stay tuned to this station for further updates."

After the announcement, the alluring voice of Harry Belefonte, crooning _Island in the Sun _made for an odd segue back to the regular programming.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on in Illya's head. "Don't worry tovarisch, I'm sure they're all right." Napoleon spoke reassuringly. "They're trained U.N.C.L.E. agents, remember?"

"That is exactly what concerns me. Elliott may try to put her nose where it does not belong."

"Look who's talking." Napoleon jibed, then softened his tone. "Hey if you and Nate want to leave..."

Both men declined, and were in agreement with each other to stick it out in spite of their concerns.

"We have to do this," Illya said coldly. Those words put an abrupt end to the discussion.

Napoleon knew his friend was worried, though there was nothing in his expression to indicate it, however, Nates brow was furrowed with concern. They were both U.N.C.L.E. agents to the core and in spite of their feelings, they knew what had to be done. The mission came first.

.

* ref. "The Atlantean Affair"


	16. Chapter 16

The black smoke continued to drift from Paget across the parishes to the west and Napoleon now caught the worry that was evident in his partner's eyes, as Illya kept glancing back at the reflection in the rearview mirror.

"Hey buddy are you sure you want to do this?"

"Napoleon, I do not want to do it all, but my desires take a backseat to my duty. You know that as well as I do. I am sure she is alright. Elliott is a resourceful woman and knows how to avoid trouble and Anita seems very much to be cut from the same cloth, but still, I cannot help being concerned about this situation."

"Yes, my wife is capable and can handle herself quite well. She can beat me up, in a sparring match...well that's neither here nor there." Nate chuckled for a moment from behind the steering wheel, but his demeanor changed as he continued speaking.

"Still, these racial disturbances have been happening more and more here. Bermuda's black people are tired of being treated like second class citizens, and I don't blame them. Things got out of hand just three years ago when we had rioting at the Bermuda Electrical Light Company. Though the initial cause of that was all about union recognition as well as employee rights, but it made the fact that there was racial inequality in Bermuda very public, instead of being brushed aside and kept hush hush. There's been a lot of pent up energy and anger that the BELCO event has triggered."

"The police were called in to restore peace and as a result seventeen officers were injured, some seriously, with a fair number of civilian casualties as well. Since then, questions have been raised about the disparity of the number of blacks on the police force, and a number of Bahamians were just been added to the ranks in response to the outcry. That, however, barely addresses the issue."

"You would never suspect that sort of tension here." Napoleon commented.

"To outsiders it's not obvious but for those of us who live here it is. I've seen my 'Nita put up with racist behavior more often than I'd care to say."

Illya spoke out in sympathy."Napoleon you see the best in everyone and everything, and sometimes that optimism can blind you to what does not affect you. As the victim of prejudice, I am fully aware of its existence in everyday life. Even today there are those at headquarters who still whisper _Commie_ behind my back, despite the fact that I have become an American citizen, denounced Communism and embraced Democracy. Those people do not trust me, and I suppose never will as they have let fear and ignorance affect their judgement."

"I guess I'm lucky to have never experienced it personally, but trust me, I do see and know when things need to change." Napoleon countered.

Another radio bulletin came on the radio, the announcer this time speaking with a very British accent.

"_There have been numerous casualties as a result of the riots in Hamilton, with those seriously injured being taken to KEMH in Paget. At present there have been no fatalities, but it's estimated that damage to property will_ _be running into the millions of pounds. Police are continuing to try to quell the unrest."_

"What's KEMH?" Napoleon asked.

"King Edward VII Memorial hospital, it's not far from where both of you are staying." Nate turned the radio off as the regular programming returned, thinking better they not listen to anything else; they could do nothing about the situation and needed to concentrate on their mission."

They crossed Somerset bridge in Sandys Parish to the largest of three islands and and continued on. The islands made up the western coast of the Great Sound, the large expanse of water dominating the geography of western Bermuda, where it was joined to Southampton parish, the waters surrounding Sandys were some of the most treacherous, reefs in Bermuda waters and explained why early navigators gave such dreaded name Isle of Devils to this island.

The abandoned Royal Naval Dockyards were actually housed within a large fortress called _The Keep_ that was originally built to protect the dockyard and covered 10 acres of land with 30-foot high walls and was the largest of its kind in Bermuda. It housed several historical buildings, and there were plans by the government to eventually make the area part of a Maritime museum. One of the most famous structures within the walls was the Commissioner's House, a once grand 1820s Georgian style house was in near derelict condition. That left it off the list of possible sites in use by Thrush.

Still it was obvious the interior grounds of the Keep were kept pristine as they arrived at the dock area via a gravel road leading up to a small simply constructed white stone building.

Standing like a sentinel in front of it on the neatly manicured lawn surrounded by a fine white gravel walkway was a statue of the sea god Neptune holding a large anchor.

"That must be it," Illya whispered.

"Why are you whispering, we're far enough away?"Nate asked.

"Old habits die hard," The Russian smiled." You must be losing your touch Nate, as there might be guards patrolling the area."

"I didn't think of that, man maybe I have lost my touch." He now whispered back.

They left the car at a safe distance and proceeded on foot and watching men carrying several crates from the building. They were taking them to one a nearby dinghy tied at the dock.

"Bingo," Solo whispered. Nate remained behind to watch the dock for any of the returning dinghies once it was clear, while Napoleon and Illya continued on into the building.

Surprisingly the heavy wooden door with its cast iron hinges and handle was unlocked, as the agents entered cautiously with their weapons drawn. They silently moved along a whitewashed corridor, when they suddenly heard voices, and ducked into a darkened alcove.

They held their breath as two men dressed in white lab coats strode past, lost in conversation and not seeing the U.N.C.L.E. agents standing to the side in the shadows

Napoleon cocked his eyebrows, giving a sigh of relief, then waved his partner to follow as he stepped back into the corridor. At the end of the hall was another dark wooden door, equally as heavy as the the one in the entrance, with a small barred window at eye level.

Napoleon stepped to the left of the door, his partner heading to the right. Knowing that Illya's eidetic memory would make for a better snapshot of what was in the room, he motioned for him to take a look inside.

Illya stepped to the window, taking a long enough visual perusal to account for the contents of the interior. He stepped away, indicating they needed to make a hasty retreat as someone was heading toward the door.

They dashed off, exiting the building quickly, waving Nate to return to the car.

Saunders started the engine, keeping the headlights off until they were far enough away, finally turning them on for safety's sake as they headed towards Grey's Bridge on the Malabar Road, that connected to the middle island of Boaz.

"Napoleon, there was a very active lab inside. They are still involved in the manufacturing process, but seem to be in a bit of a hurry, I am sure to close it down. There were crates being packed with more of the finished product. So if it is indeed true they are shutting the operation down by tomorrow, then we will need to somehow stop this tonight as well as Calypso, before she weighs anchor."

Napoleon listened carefully and by the time his partner had finished speaking, he had a plan formulated, but it required everything timed out exactly. He couldn't allow one end of the operation to warn the other, sending the yacht off to escape.

"Ned, we're going to need your boat again, and I'm afraid we'll need Anita's help after all, but just to help us coordinate things. Tovarisch, you may want to rethink about getting Elliott involved, but again keeping her just as backup.

Illya's nostrils flared. "No."

"Trust me, all I want the ladies to do is keep an eye out from the terrace at Heaven's Above. I'll go after the folks in the lab, Nate you'll need to ferry Illya out to the Calypso, where you'll commandeer the boat. Elliott and Anita will warn us of anything that might come out of the woodwork towards that yacht."

Illya huffed, again not happy. "All right, as long as my wife is out of harms way."He pulled his communicator deciding to let her in on the trickery he'd been pulling on her.

"Channel F- McGowan...Elliott are you there?"

There was nothing but static. Illya looked his partner in the eyes. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Me too," Solo agreed. He looked at his watch. "This is going to cut things tight...we have to make sure they're okay. Let's head into Hamilton and see what's happening.

There was a look of relief in Illya's eyes, one that said he was thankful for his partner for making the decision for him.

Nate remained silent, but both agents could see his stiffened shoulders relax as soon as Napoleon spoke.

Saunders hit the gas pedal, speeding towards Hamilton and not concerned about getting a speeding ticket.

Once they reached the outskirts of the city, it was obvious they could go no further members of the local army units had the city cordoned off, with no one allow in or out.

Nate rolled down his car window speaking to one of the soldiers. "Excuse me sir, my wife and her friend may have been shopping in the city and we're unable to locate them..."

"I'm sorry mate' you'll have to turn round. There's no access being granted under any circumstances."

He saw the disappointed look on Nate's face. "Not that I wish it on them, but if they were injured...ya might check hospital to see if they're there."

"Thank you, we'll do that."

"Cheers mate' and good luck, hope ya find the ladies and they're not bad off."

Nate did a U-turn, heading towards KEMP in Paget, and after a short ride, they pulled into the crowded parking area. The constabulary were keeping most people out but after retelling their story they were permitted to park. They approached one of the Bobbies in hopes of getting some answers.

Illya spoke out to the man, using a refined British accent, in hopes that would help. "Excuse me my good man, I am trying to locate my wife and her friend, they may have been in Hamilton when the riot broke out."

"Names sir?"

"Oh, Ell...I mean Elise Manning and Anita Minor."

He picked up a clipboard, flipping a few pages as he scanned the for the names.

"Yes they're here, in the emergency room. Go through that door and take the corridor on the right, then a left." He waved for the next police officer guarding the entrance to let them pass.

"Thank you sir," Napoleon answered, as Illya and Nate were already headed towards the door.

The interior of the hospital was a madhouse, with patients and loved ones huddled together wherever they could sit. Policemen were taking reports, as some of those with minor injuries screamed at them, demanding to know how something like this could have happened. There were a number of ethnic slurs being used. There were no black faces among this group of people.

The followed the corridors as instructed, arriving to the emergency room as promised.

Illya walked immediately to the front desk, asking for his wife and Anita.

"Oh," the nurse said suspiciously, " Manning and Minor? You'll need to speak to the officer in charge." She waved the policemen she spoken of over to them.

"Yes mum?" He acknowledged.

"These gentlemen say their wives are Elise Manning and Anita Minor."

"Really? I have some questions that maybe you can answer for me then."

"What is the problem. Is my wife all right? What has happened to her?" Illya demanded.

"Take it easy sir, please if you'd come with me so we might speak in private?"

The three agents followed him to a lounge near the nurses desk.

"Please tell us what has happened?" This time Illya spoke more calmly.

"It seems that your wives were in possession of weapons, and Mrs. Manning fired some sort of ammunition designed to knock people out into the crowd. Both she and Miss Minor claim they work for and organization called U.N.C.L.E. but could not prove it as their purses with their identifications were lost during the rioting."

"First, please tell me, is my wife unharmed? She is three months pregnant." Illya asked, still remaining composed.

"The ladies both suffered minor head injuries, not serious ones. Why they put themselves in the middle of this insanity, I don't know...unless they were there as instigators?"

"I assure you they weren't." Napoleon chimed in. He pulled his gold ID card, as did Illya and Nate. "You see, we're all members of U.N.C.L.E. Are you familiar with it?"

"Of a sort," the officer replied,"it's an international peacekeeping business am I right. A fellow law enforcement agency per se."

"That's close enough," Napoleon smiled.

"And why may I ask then are you people here. Did your organization have something to do with this riot?"

"Hardly," Illya smiled. Mrs. Saunders are residents of Bermuda and old friends to Mr. Solo. My wife and I are here on our honeymoon and are staying at the Horizon Estates."

"Ooooh," the officer replied, though still suspicious, "The woman you identified is a person of color, a local by the name of Minor, from St. Davids Island.

"She is my wife,"Nate snapped at him. "Now where the hell is she you son of a …"

"I know I'm going to regret this," Napoleon said." Here's a card with our Directors name and a telephone number. Alexander Waverly can vouch for us..._all_ of us." Napoleon knew that was going to upset the Old Man, finding out the Kuryakins were now involved, going against his explicit orders.

"Righto, I'll do that. Now if you'd like to see your wives, follow me please?"

He led them to Elliott's room, leaving Illya and Napoleon there. They took note there was a guard outside the door as they entered, finding her sitting in bed, her head bandaged with one wrist handcuffed to the bed frame.

Nate was taken to another part of the building, where Anita was being held, she too was handcuffed to her bed, but in a public ward, segregated from the white patients.


	17. Chapter 17

"Illya?" Elliott looked up with an expression of both surprise and relief.

He stood beside her, giving her a quick visual once over, then sat on the side of the bed, pulling her gently into his arms.

"Are you all right my darling?" Illya whispered to her. He could feel her slightly trembling as he held her.

"I'm fine, truly I am, as is the baby. Just a hit on my noggin' that's all, and a few bruises on my back and arms. Nothing serious."

"We will have you out of here soon," he said, keeping voice calm and reassuring.

"Illuysha, they wouldn't believe that we were U.N.C.L.E. agents, I lost my purse with my identification...I heard Anita lost hers too...hey wouldn't let me see her. I have to say it was awful out there, too many people panicking and running. I was knocked down and so afraid of being trampled that I used some sleep dart rounds...I guess that wasn't the best of ideas?"

"Does it matter? You injured no one. You are safe and that is all that counts." He kissed her forehead, stroking her disheveled hair.

"Aw I must look a mess," she decided, looking at her torn and dirty dress.

"You're a sight for sore eyes Ellie," Napoleon spoke up. "Glad you're okay."

"Hi Napoleon," she mustered a smile. "Still on your assignment?" She managed a dig.

The police officer returned, offering his apologies to Elliott.

"I spoke to your Mr. Waverly, quite a nice chap I might add. He's vouched for you all, and you are free to go. By the way, Mr. Solo, is it? Mr. Waverly said for you to contact him at your earliest convenience. And Mrs. Manning, you can pick up your handgun at police headquarters. If we do happen to locate your purse, we'll have it sent to your hotel. Our apologies for the handcuffs madam, but at the time they were deemed necessary."

"Thank you," Elliott said curtly as her husband helped her from the bed. "Hey, wait a sec, where is my friend Anita? Was she hurt?"

"She was, but not seriously ...took a knock to the head as well. She's being held in the public ward and should be released shortly.

.

Nate Saunders scanned the the large ward filled with a sea of black faces for signs of his wife, finally spotting her in a back corner.

"Anita!" He called out, quickly heading to her at a little trot.

Her head was bandaged, and her left arm, apparently broken, was in a sling. Her right wrist was handcuffed to her metal headboard.

"Nate..." She whispered his name like a sigh as he sat beside her, carefully pulling her to him.

"You all right baby doll?"

"I've been better." She rattled the cuffs. "Seems they think I'm an _instigator, _I'm sure because I'm black. They wouldn't believe I work for U.N.C.L.E. and I lost my ID. I think they're charging me and Elliott with weapons possession."

"Well we'll get that sorted out, won't we? Nate became quiet as he wrapped her in his arms. That told his wife how worried he was as Nate Saunders was never a man lacking for words.

"How's Elliott?"

"A little better off than you. She was knocked in the head, but nothing broken. I'm assuming the baby is fine."

"Thank God for that. Nathan, it was awful. I've never experienced a riot before. The anger, frustration... fear and confusion were awful. I can see how many injured are here in the ward, but were there many other people hurt?"

"The riots are still going on, so I'm sure there'll be more casualties coming in. They say the damage is extensive, and the government shut down the airport for 48 hours. No one allowed in or out of Bermuda. It seems like they're trying to downplay that it's a race riot, no doubt to keep the public, and the tourists from panicking."

Anita sigh heavily. "Will this ever end Nate? Why can't people just accept each other for who they are and embrace each others differences. Why can't people just be courteous and fair to each other regardless of their skin color?"

"I don't know honey, but hopefully someday they will. At least U.N.C.L.E. is part of that process." He kissed her cheeks as tears fell down them.

"Whose Uncle is part of what process?" A woman in the bed next to Anita said, obviously listening in. "I'm not seeing a ting here...just ignorance and hatred from your people. She directed her words at Nate.

An officer walked quietly up from behind them. "Excuse me Mr. Saunders, Mrs. Saunders is free to go."

"About damn time," he muttered.

"_Nathan Saunders._" Anita warned him as she was uncuffed. "Let's not make any more trouble for ourselves."

Illya and Nate signed the release papers and with their wives safely beside them, they headed out to the car to meet Napoleon.

They climbed into the vehicle in silence, and as they neared the Horizon Estates, Elliott finally spoke up.

"All right, ye bunch of liars. Who's going ta fess up and tell me what ye've really been up ta? Illya...going fishin' on a boat, yeah right. When pigs fly."

Like good little spies, no one flinched at her question, but she saw Illya stiffen ever so slightly, and that only a wife would notice.

"Come on, out with it.._.Napoleon_?"

"Okay, as usual you've pegged us. Illya spotted something suspicious going on in the bay, and his instincts turned out to be right. A yacht named the Calypso is anchored out there, owned by Thrush strongman Gilles De Lossier.

"It is being loaded with a deadly explosive compound and we have located their manufacturing lab up in Sandys Parish." Illya chimed in.

"Well then let's go get them." She said excitedly.

"He said you'd want to do that as soon as you found out." Napoleon said, looking at his partner. You can help, but you'll not be directly involved, that's one caveat I won't break as it's from your husband."

"_Illya?"_ She tried staring him down with a cold look, one that would have done her husband proud had he not been on the receiving end of it.

"_Nyet, vy ne budete imetʹ svoĭ putʹ v etot raz. Ya zapreshchayu eto ... u vas yestʹ nash syn , chtoby dumatʹ, i ne mozhet riskovatʹ_no, you'll not have your way this time. I forbid it...you have our son to think about, and cannot take the risk." _ Illya spoke rapidly in Russian, this time refusing to give into her.

For once Elliott backed down, knowing he was right. "What is it ye want me to do then?" She answered meekly.

Napoleon went over his plans with her and Anita, once finished, Nate turned on the radio to see if there was more news about Hamilton. Strangely there was nothing, it was if any more news of the riots had been blacked out. He reached to turn off the radio when a weather forecast came over the air.

.

"_We have received warnings from the United States meteorological services indicating the formation of a tropical depression east of Bermuda, the storm is tracking at currently 8 km. per hour, with winds speeds varying between 96 to 112 km. per hour. The storm is expected to arrive within the next 24-48 hours. Residents are advised to take precautions, and to secure any loose objects that could be swept living in low lying areas are being advised to evacuate as a precaution. Further updates to follow, now back to our regular programming."_

Music returned over the air to mid-song... '_The Girl from Ipanema'_.

"_That when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh _

_Ooh, But I watch her so sadly, how can I tell her I love her _

_Yes I would give my heart gladly, But each day, when she walks to the sea,_

_ She looks straight ahead, not at me..."_

_._

"Turn that off please Nate?" Napoleon asked. "This complicates matters."

"We will have to move quickly, as Calypso will not doubt weigh anchor early to escape the storm." Illya said. "Hopefully they will want to load the last of the compound before doing so."

"Before the word of the weather broke," Nate said, "I was thinking the harbor patrols might delay any departures, just like the airport is being shut down, but now with the storm on the way, all bets are off on that."

As the car pulled up to the Kuryakin's hotel, Illya and Nathan stepped out for a moment, walking their wives to the stairs; Illya taking the time out to warn Elliott one last time. "Annushka stay put, you will be safe from the storm where you are. Make sure the hotel secures the shutters...and there is a flashlight in my suitcase, and turn the refrigerator on high in case the power is lost, and..."

"Illya, it's not the end of the world, I'll...we'll be fine." She laughed at his worry, kissing him on the lips. They held each other in their embrace for a moment. "Be careful please ye crazy Russian," she whispered before pushing him away from her.

Nate and Anita gave each other a hug and a kiss, but remained oddly silent.

Elliott and Anita locked arms as they climbed the stairs together to Heavens Above.

"Ye know there hasn't been one trip that Illya and I haven't taken that didn't end up going wrong. I'm schtartin' ta think we've got a bit of the _kybosh_ on us, me man and I." She said to 'Nita, putting on a thick Irish accent.

"What's a _kybosh_?"

"A sort of jinx."

"Let's hope that's not really true." Anita crossed her fingers in front of her to ward off the bad _juju._

When they made it to the top of the long flight of stairs, they found the hotel maintenance crew closing up the shutters and putting away the furniture as well as potted plants into a small shed behind the house. They recommended the ladies bring some belongings and head down to the main building where it would be safer, as up here they'd be cut off during the storm and would bear the brunt of the winds. No one would be able to come up and check on them.

Elliott refused. "We'll be fine, not to worry."

They handed the ladies some candles and matches as well as a basket of non-perishable snacks, a few bottles of Perrier, and Rum Swizzle on the house.

"Have you heard any more on the riots?" Anita asked.

"Still going on, people acting crazy and not even paying mind to de coming storm. Hopefully de insanity will all be over before it arrives, but if not, then maybe the rain will put out all de fires?" The man eyed them, still dressed in their damaged clothing, as well as their injuries.

"Were you ladies der, in 'Amilton?"

"Oh noooo, Anita quickly countered. We had a little scooter mishap, that's all

She and Elliott cleaned up, made their storm preparations, got the binoculars and posted themselves with a view of the Calypso, still anchored below in the bay.

"Channel F- Kuryakin. The yacht is still here, and no sign of any activity." Elliott called.

"Good, thank you. Are you ready up there?"

"Yes the hotel people did everything, brought us candles, food and drink too. They wanted us to go down to the main building, but weren't too insistent on it. Shame you aren't here, weathering this storm by candlelight could be quite romantic..." she whispered. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Anita was manning the binoculars, when she spotted the dinghies approaching the boat, and called it out to Elliott.

"Illya, 'Nita just spotted the dinghies coming."

"Let us know when they begin the return trip. Out."

The wind was beginning to pick up slightly, and as the sun set, Anita could barely make out the white caps on the water. She turned on a small transistor radio, just catching the last of the weather report stating the storm had picked up speed, and would arrive sooner than anticipated."

"Should we tell them?"

"I have a feeling they already suspect it, especially if they have a view of the water. Let's pray it doesn't hit too soon?"

"Amen to that," Anita said.


	18. Chapter 18

Gilles De Lossier stood behind the contemporary glass bar in the Lanai located at the rear of his house; pouring himself a Rum Swizzle as he enjoyed the scents and sounds surrounding him. Behind him, a radio was playing pleasant island music.

He spared no expense with the landscaping that surrounded him, having fully mature hot pink Bougainvillea, red Chenile plants, Bromiliads, and orchids of every size and shape planted all over his property. The grounds were ablaze with a myriad of bright colors, reds, yellows, white, hot pink were ablaze everywhere he looked and surrounding the walls of his estate were tall Norfolk Island pine, as well as Alexander and King palms. This was one of several tropical paradises that he owned, and most of them T.H.R.U.S.H. knew nothing about.

Gilles had amassed a great deal of money, working his side deals and schemes, and when it suited him, he skimmed from the top on some of Thrush's lucrative operations such as gambling casinos. He played the stock market, choosing wisely and increasing his wealth substantially.

He could have done quite well for himself even without the organization of T.H.R.U.S.H. but he liked their ideals, and the feeling of strength they him gave being backed by such an organization. The idea of dominating the world at times made him feel heady with delight...power was after all, intoxicating.

Though his ties were strong, he often operated independently of Thrush, knowing he had these safe havens anonymously available to him should he need to retreat for whatever reason. He could have publicly acted the wealthy playboy, but preferred to keep more to himself and his personal past times, such as enjoying his grey ladies.

Watching his three lovely Graiai as they swam in the sunken pool set in the neatly appointed gardens, pleasantly distracted him for the moment.

The women were each clad in the tiniest of colorful string bikinis, and Dread, being the tease that she was, let her red bathing top suddenly come loose and float away on the surface of the crystal clear water.

"You must rememberl not to let your lovely breasts get sunburned my dearest," he called to her, though he was aware the sun was setting. Of the three, she was currently his favorite, and shared his bed with him alone more often than the others.

She smiled, cupping her breasts for him, displaying them proudly. "I think they'll look better a little tanned, don't you?" She toyed with him, trying to lure him to her.

The winds were beginning to pick up, blowing the trees, sending the flora swaying back and forth in a swaying dance. The silver grey locks of the women dried quickly in the increasingly strong breeze as they splashed in the water and laughed.

The pool was modeled after the Greek mosaics of old, with a black Greek key design running along the edge just under water, contrasted against white tiles. At the bottom, also set in mosaic, was the image of a trumpeting swan.

"Come in Gilles, take your clothes off and join us!" The women whined playfully.

De Lossier was no longer paying attention to them, as a radio announcement had caught his ear.

".._.warnings from the United States meteorological services indicating a the approach of a tropical depression east of Bermuda. The storm has intensified and has picked up speed, tracking currently at 16 kilometres per hour, with winds speeds estimated between 112 to 128 kilometres per hour but is not expected to reach hurricane strength. The storm is estimated to make landfall within the next 20 hours. Residents are advised to take precautions, and to secure loose objects that could be blown away. Those living in low lying areas are being advised to evacuate as a precaution. Shelters are being set up in the following areas..." _

Gilles de Lossier cursed, slamming his fist into the radio, sending it flying in pieces across the floor of the Lanai.

"_Dread, Horror, Alarm_." He clapped his hands calling to his beauties. "_Allez_! Out of the water now, there is work to be done. He took a moment to admire the nearly nude forms of the women as they stepped dripping from the pool, watching as Aries handed them towels to dry themselves.

The Graiai, in mythology, were witches in the form of old grey-haired hags but these females were neither witches or old, they were most deadly creatures, skilled in martial arts and hand to hand combat. They were devoted to De Lossier and would not hesitate to kill for him.

With the storm approaching, their master would need their services to expedite the elimination of those at the lab, as well as destroy the building. There would be no time to empty it as Gilles originally planned as the weather was forcing him to step up his timetable. Once the task put to the Graiai was complete and the last of the explosive compound delivered to Calypso; they would have to head out to sea and away from the oncoming storm.

They would sail up the Gulf of Mexico and to the west coast of Florida, there would be his first stop, and Cape Canaveral his first target. Destroying the American space program and their ability to launch satellites would be but a small step to world domination. His next targets would be the Pentagon, and the United Nations building...that would be a simultaneous attack. It would indeed send a harsh and clear warning to other world powers and the lesser countries. Take down the Americans and the world would tremble.

Gilles smiled, thinking he would eliminate U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York, crippling the organization...just for fun. That alone might get him a seat on the T.H.R.U.S.H. Council. He laughed out loud at that thought.

He snapped his fingers, hurrying the women along as they scurried gracefully into the house. "Aries, the car please."

"Yes boss, right away. Any luggage boss?" The tattooed Samoan asked.

"No, we'll purchase whatever we need when we reach the United States. His ladies did so love to shop...and he enjoyed indulging them.

Aries appeared at the front of the house behind the wheel of a sleek dark green 280S Mercedes sedan. Gilles stepped from his home dressed in a white linen suit, twirling his ebony cane as he waited for his man open the door and seated himself in the car, followed by the women, now clad in silver-grey spandex jumpsuits and metallic, stiletto heeled boots.

They sped away from the compound on Boaz Island, heading across the brigde to the lab located only minutes away. Gilles instructed Aries to radio ahead to the Calypso, informing the Captain to rendezvous at Ireland Island as they would be setting out to sea to avoid the worst of the storm.

.

Napoleon and Illya climbed down from the small private dock into Nates boat as he started the engine, tossing in a duffle bag Napoleon had brought with a change of dark clothing. He quickly stripped, dressing himself in black field pants and a turtle neck... a little warm for the the humid weather, but necessary. He smeared his cheeks and forehead with black grease paint for camouflage, and readied his Special, inserting a clip of sleep darts, but pocketing one with live ammunition just in case.

Illya was still wearing his Speedo underneath his clothes, and sat on a cushioned seat removing his shorts and tee-shirt while he rechecked the diving gear. He had more than enough oxygen to swim out to the Calypso undetected.

Nate tossed him a speargun and a waterproof bag for his Special, clips and a canister of knockout gas. Illya knew he would have to be extremely careful, using only sleep darts, as he could not risk live ammo and having a stray bullet damaging the cargo, exposing it to the air. That he assumed, without examining the substance, was the catalyst. It remained to be seen if the Thrush lackeys onboard the boat were using bullets in their rifles...if they were, then his mission might be short lived. He decided to say nothing to Napoleon, yet on a positive note, at least he was not feeling seasick...yet.

The boat headed out into the choppy bay, with Solo manning the binoculars, trying to pinpoint the yacht, as there were a number of them scattered across the the water just off Coral Beach.

"If the water get rougher, we could founder. This boats not made for big waves and she has a tendency to porpoise," Nate warned.

"We will have to take our chances then." Illya tried smiling back at him. The Russian held on tightly as the bow began to bounce up and down enough, making the boat feel quite unstable.

"It has a tendency to do that no matter where I set the motor in height and in trim." Nate chuckled a little, seeing the look on Illya's face. "You're not going to get sick are you?"

"Not if I can help it," Illya answered calmly as he tightened his stomach muscles.

"I thought you were in the Russian navy." Nate called to him.

"Was, onboard a submarine."

"Oooh." It took Nate a minute to get that. "So no seasickness under the ocean right?"

"Correct." Illya said, trying to will himself into not puking over the side. The Dramamine was not helping much now.

Napoleon's communicator chirped. "Solo here."

"The yacht has pulled anchor and is traveling north, but it's motoring and the sails haven't been unfurled yet," said Elliott. "Do ye think they're skipping town?"

"Did you see any sign of a man with long black hair and only one eye boarding her?"

"No, not anyone like that atall."

"Then I have my doubts she's leaving, not without Gilles De Lossier, that's his boat and he's running this operation. Calypso is most likely, as we suspect, heading to Ireland Island. Thanks. Out."

Napoleon spotted the yacht as it was the only one indeed north while the other boats were motoring to the shoreline of the bay, and not away from it. Neds small craft caught up to it and followed the yacht at a respectable distance, but staying to the shallower waters a few hundred meters to Calypsos port side. The water was getting rougher, and the agents took turns at bailing while Ned kept his boat as steady as possble.

The Calypso had most likely not taken notice of them, as there were enough small watercraft still on the bay, seeking safe haven from the storm; though some remained anchored; their owners hoping to have them ride the storm out there.

Once they reached the island the yacht finally weighed anchor just off shore, and Nate pointed out, not far from the docks where the cargo was being handled. Everything looked a bit different from the view off shore There were many were more buildings located within the keep along with other docks that extended out into the Atlantic.

Nate brought his boat into an nearby dock, and watched as the usual two dinghies went out to meet Calypso, though the men handling them had a difficult time trying to come alongside the yacht to deliver their cargo.

Napoleon stepped from the boat to the pilons."This is my chance to get in there. Nate, take Illya out to that boat, and then get yourself back here asap to cover the dinghies when they return. You have your weapon ready?"

Nate held up a Luger style pistol with supressor, the type used by U.N.C.L.E. agents, mostly before Napoleon and Illyas time. "Loaded with sleep darts, as ordered," the older agent saluted.

The boat took off as soon as Napoleon trotted towards the building and there he spotted a green Mercedes parked in front of it. His gut told him De Lossier had arrived.

He needed to be extra cautious, as the man was known for always having an entourage of bodyguards with him.

Napoleon entered through the main door, headed down the corridor, just as he'd done earlier with his partner, heading straight for the lab.

He positioned himself to the side of the door, listening for any voices or the sounds of someone approaching from within before he took a quick peek through the barred window. He saw no one at all, and he suddenly felt very nervous, as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something wasn't right.


	19. Chapter 19

Nate motored out again into the choppy waters, staying at a far enough distance from the yacht so as not to arouse the suspicions of her crew, but close enough that Illya wouldn't have too long a swim to reach it. He didn't like the idea of abandoning the Russian out here, half thinking that he should somehow help him take the boat.

He was being relegated to watching the dinghies at the dock and supposed that was important too, but it still failed to make him feel any better about Illya, or Napoleon being alone in the satrap.

Thinking back on the old days in U.N.C.L.E.; he realized things hadn't changed much. Agents were always heading into dangerous situations, burning building and such, outnumbered and outgunned, yet still they managed to somehow prevail. He hoped that would be the case tonight as well.

Illya prepared the diving equipment and with Nate's assistance, strapped the oxygen tank to his back and gathered up his array of weaponry.

Looking out over the water as the boat rocked and swayed sharply; Nate voiced his concerns over the weather. "I don't know Illya, this is starting to look worse than they said... I think it's going to make landfall sooner, just and old seaman's instincts. It's the sea life that are the ones with the good sense to make themselves scarce, shame we're not quite as smart."

Illya suddenly remembered the sharks, and said something to Nathan.

"Don't worry, they're really for the most part docile creatures, unless provoked. Just don't cut yourself though, as they can smell blood in the water miles away from it. I wouldn't concern yourself, as they've most likely headed out into deeper waters."

"Thank you for that _reassuring_ bit of information Nate. Good to know." Illya answered a little sarcastically; the idea of sharks being docile was questionable at best.

"I do agree with you on the estimation of the storm. We will just have to work more quickly will we not," he nodded fearlessly, before inserting his mouthpiece and lastly donning his facemask before slipping over the side. Illya rose to the surface, treading water for a moment, and giving Nate a thumbs up before disappearing beneath the choppy white-capped bay.

Beneath the water, it was a very different world once the sun had set. It was still fairly shallow where the yacht was anchored, but not very far out were treacherous reefs that could cut it to ribbons.

He could make out the outline of the seagrass as it swayed against the sandy bottom, more actively perhaps as the winds were beginning to churn everything as the storm neared. Schools of silvery fish darted around him, paying him no mind this time, no doubt sensing the changing weather. The silty bottom would shift with the wind driven tides and release a myriad of life for them to feed upon.

He checked the luminous dial of the compass strapped to his wrist as his fins drove him, as he paddling through the water with his hands, carrying the dark canvas bag with his weapons, strapped close to his chest. The only sound made was from the rush of air bubbles from his mouth piece as he exhaled.

.

Nathan started up the engine, casually following the dinghies as they returned to the docks, and when they arrived, he pulled alongside, tying up his 13 footer.

"Hey you can't do that old man," one of the Thrush lackeys barked at him.

"Last time I looked this was a public dock, and besides with this bad weather rolling in, I'll never make it back to St. Georges in time."

"We don't give a crap what you gotta do mate, now shove off."

Nate drew his Luger, pointing it directly at them, speaking with cool assurance in his voice. "I don't think so boys, now hands on your heads and down to the ground, now please."

They complied, giving him no argument as they eyed his weapon.

"Man this feels good," Nate thought to himself with a triumphant smile. "Good these T.H.R.U.S.H. types never change. Luckily for him they were still cowards.

.

Napoleon walked along the grassy center of the Keep. It was dark enough, so he wouldn't be seen and he preferred avoiding walking on the fine gravel pathway as it would be too noisy. He ducked behind the tall, brightly carving of the sea god Neptune that looked like it once was the figurehead on a sailing ship, stopping to check his wrist watch. Illya should be nearing the boat by now; they'd both set their watches, agreeing at an attempt to take both locations simultaneously to prevent one from alerting the other.

He huffed, hoping this plan would work, and blessed himself as a precaution, as he stepped from behind King Neptune, heading to the heavy wooden door. That was when he felt it...the first drops of rain, and cursed under his breath, as that would no doubt make Illya's part of the operation more difficult. It was too dark for him to see the water, but when a gust of wind hit him; he knew it would be getting pretty wild out there.

Napoleon cautiously pushed open the heavy door, slipping around a corner for cover as he stepped into the building. Everything was quiet, there was no sign of activity or voices as he walked down the corridor that led to the lab.

He peeked in through the window this time, and was surprised to see no one there, and that made his heart sink; thinking they had timed this all wrong and were too late.

Without warning, Napoleon felt something touch his back, and he froze in reaction to it.

"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?" A female voice demanded.

He turned to face a rather unique but beautiful woman with long silken grey hair, dressed in very tight spandex jumpsuit that nearly matched her hair color.

There was no bluffing his way out of this one, not dressed as he was with black grease paint smeared on his face, but he'd try anyway.

"I'm with the Royal Navy mum." He put on his best British accent. "We were on sailing maneuvers on board the, umm... HMS Pickle." That was the first thing that popped into his head, recalling it was the fastest sloop in Bermudan history. " Yes, umm, we made port here on orders to batten down due to the oncoming tropical storm. I have orders to check on any civilians in the area of the Keep. Just a safety precaution mum."

Deino stared at him for a moment, then laughed out loud while Enyo and Pemphredo appeared from nowhere joining her, and surrounding the black clad intruder.

"That is the most pathetic lie I've ever heard." Deino told him point blank.

"Can't blame a guy for trying...my name is Solo, Napoleon Solo, and you are?"

"My name is Deino also called Dread for the dreadful anticipation of Horror, my sister Enyo, whom Hesiod called the waster of cities and Pamphredo, meaning Alarm. We are the grey sisters."

"_Interesting_ names, ladies but I'm afraid I'll have to say Au Revoir, as I have a world to save." He raised his Special towards Dread, intending to dart her but just as he was about to fire, Enyo leaped forward, kicking his gun from his hand.

"Hi-yah!" Pamphredo yelled, trying to karate chop him in the neck, but that he fended off with a block, and grabbing her by the arm, he judo-flipped her, dropping her to the floor.

Deino charged Napoleon, kicking her knee upwards as she flew towards him, hitting him in the midsection and knocking the wind out of him. He bent over, gasping for breath as Enyo screeched like some sort of bird, leaping onto his back, wrapping her forearm around his throat, tightening her grip to choke him. Napoleon rapidly spun her around and the centrifugal force made her lose her hold on him sending her flying against a wall.

The wild grey women kept up their relentless attack, one by one taking turns, coming at him again and again. Deino and Pamphredo joined forces this time, one leaping up, getting her legs in a scissor hold around Napoleon's neck, while the other swept his legs from under him.

He went down hard, and the last thing he remembered was the two women on top of him while the third one jabbed a hypodermic needle into his neck.

Napoleon woke up lying on the floor inside the lab, his eyes opening to the sight of Gilles Alexandros De Lossier seated in front of him on a gilt red velvet chair that looked very much like a throne. He was smoking a cigarette in a long holder, and leaned forward to the agent, blowing smoke into his face.

"Napoleon Solo. We meet at last and I see you have met the Graiai...my grey ladies. You are lucky to be alive after such an encounter."

Napoleon struggled to his knees, finding his hands tied behind his back. One thing that caught his immediate attention were the half dozen or so bodies that were scattered about the floor of the lab.

"Gilles De Lossier, fancy meeting you here."

Gilles stood up, leaning on his black swan cane, taking a few steps closer to his prisoner.

"You are too late to stop me, you do know that now."

"Stop you? Stop you from what?"

De Lossier huffed. "You U.N.C.L.E. types are all the same, playing your silly little games. Why can't you just admit the truth and then we can get this dirty little business over with. What do you know?" He knelt beside the American, shoving the silver cane handle up sharply beneath Napoleon's chin, holding him in place as he forced his chin upwards.

"We know about your explosive compound, and your plan to blackmail the world into submission," he answered through gritted teeth. "This location is the last step in the manufacturing process, and you're transporting the finished product aboard your yacht, the Calypso."

"My my, you have been the busy little agent haven't you Mr. Solo?"

He removed the cane, letting Napoleon struggle to maintain his balance while he remained on his knees."

"You're not going to get away with this De Lossier, U.N.C.L.E. will stop you."

"Oh yes I will." He began the tell tale bragging, so typical of T.H.R.U.S.H.

"First I will destroy Cape Canaveral and cripple the American's ability to launch any satellites into space, I will take out the Pentagon and other strategic locations. The world will see the United States bow pathetically before me, and they will have no choice to follow suit or suffer the same fate. Oh by the way, your headquarters in New York will be one of my special targets.

"You'll never succeed...one-eyed megalomaniacs never do."

De Lossier hissed his displeasure as he raised his cane above his head, bringing it down upon Napoleon's back, striking him with it repeatedly until the agent collapsed to the floor.

"Horror my darling," he said calmly as if talking about something inconsequential. "See to it that Mr. Solo burns in the fire along with the rest of the bodies."

She smiled as she raised a can of petrol in her hand, and began the job of pouring it around the laboratory, sprinkling the last few drops of it onto the unconscious agent.

"Alarm, Dread, the men have not returned from taking the final shipment to the boat, go see what has happened to them and once you find them, you know what to do."

The two women disappeared out the door like a pair of mindless automatons.

Gilles gathered up several folders containing the formula and notes on the manufacturing process of his precious explosive compound, and watched in delight as Horror finished pouring the last of the petrol.

"Shall I Gilles?" Enyo asked, holding up a book of wooden matches, then looked at Napoleon, whispering her regrets to him, even though he was unconscious. There was a thread of guilt pulling at her heart; so much death and destruction and she hated the idea of it. She knew somehow Gilles was a mad man, but she couldn't help herself as he controlled her and and the others with his charismatic power, one they couldn't resist.

De Lossier shook his long dark mane, brushing it back from his face with his hand. "No dearest, I want that pleasure." He said blindly mistaking her look of regret for one of eagerness. He switched his gaze to the still form of the U.N.C.L.E. agent.

"Goodbye Mr. Solo. Fate ordains that we enemies must part." Gilles then paraphrased the English poet, George Lansdown.

"_To die and part is a less evil; but to part and live, there is the torment._ So I will live and suffer the torment, while you will die. It was a shame we could not have met under more interesting circumstances. From what I've heard of your reputation, you would have been a delightful foe."

Gilles drew another cigarette from a sterling case he took from his breast pocket, placing it in his holder. He lit it, and after taking a few long drags, tossed it across the the room, igniting the accelerant in a flash of fire.

"Come dear Enyo," he offered his arm to her and she took it reluctantly, as they left the burning building together.

.

Nathan waited patiently, watching for the fire that Napoleon had planned to ignite in the satrap once he's secured it and gotten the formula. He raised his nose in the air, detecting the slightest smell of smoke as the rain began to fall in earnest.

He pulled up his jacket collar, for the good it would do. He heard a muffled pffft and that's when he felt a sharp pain in his side. His hand went to it, and came away bloodied and he stared at it as the raindrops began washing it clean.

Nathan Saunders dropped to his knees, falling forward onto the coarse gravel where he died.

Dread and Alarm shot the other men where they lay on the ground, smiling as Gilles would be pleased they had completed their assigned task. They knew it was all wrong, but the sway that Gilles had over them was too strong, and it was just easier not to acknowledge their doubts, and safer as any sign of disloyalty would end in pain or even death for them.

They dumped the bodies into the water along with that of Nathan Saunders, and untied one of the two dinghies and sinking it. They remained there at the dock, oblivious to the rain as they waited for their master to appear. They would join Gilles along with Enyo and Aries for the trip to the Florida where T.H.R.U.S.H.'s plan for world domination would begin in earnest.

"We can go shopping in Miami," Alarm spoke mindlessly.

"Miami, tsk. Please Pamphredo that city has..." She stopped in mid sentence as Gilles and Enyo appeared.

.

Napoleon feigned his unconsciousness, and opened his eyes as soon as he heard De Lossier and the woman leave. He struggled with the ropes around his wrists, wiggling and contorting until the bonds loosened enough that he could reach down to one of his shoes, trying to ignore the pain from the beating. He took stock, as he moved, feeling that nothing was broken but most likely only bruised as he forced the heel open, withdrawing a small blade. After a little more painful maneuvering, he cut himself free, and just in time as the room was filling with acrid smoke, with the flames dancing closer to him.

The fire began to leapfrog, sparked by the gasoline, quickly engulfing the room, and he knew he'd been doused with a bit of the fuel, remembering at the time hearing the regrets Enyo whispered to him and finding that a bit odd. He grabbed only one thing as he made his retreat, his Special that had luckily been discarded on on a nearby table.

Solo ran out the door, exiting the building, only to be greeted by the wind and rain slamming him in the face. He spotted Gilles De Lossier at a distance, dressed in his white linen suit that was like a beacon in the darkness.; the man and his grey clad ladies were near the dock.

"Shit," Napoleon cursed, as lightning lit up the entire sky and scene; there was no sign of Nate.


	20. Chapter 20

Illya surfaced beside the boat, grabbing hold of a mooring line and bumper pad that were dangling over the side. The water was becoming more violent, rocking the Calypso to and fro as he hoisted himself up just a little bit out of the water.

He checked his watch as he hung there, noting it was just about the time his partner would be making his entrance into the lab, and Illya hoped he'd meet with no resistance in doing so.

The Russian hiked himself up, grabbing hold of the railing and peeking over it, making sure the coast was clear before he pulled himself over and onto the deck.

There was no one in sight as he threw his flippers down and raised himself to the railing and climbed over it. He removed his mask and the oxygen tank, shoving them with the flippers beneath a heavy tarpaulin tucked beside the front of the cabin near a forward storage bin. He quickly removed the canvas bag from where it hung at his chest, taking out the spear gun, his Special as well as the canister of knockout gas.

Fully armed and ready to go, he tried to tiptoe toward the cabin entrance located at Calypsos midsection while she rocked and heaved in the water.

"_Chyort_." He cursed under his breath as he grabbed hold of the railing to keep from being thrown to the deck, or worse yet, overboard. Once reaching his goal,he pulled the pin on the canister and tossed it below, counting the seconds.

He took a step to go into the cabin and suddenly felt his head grabbed by his two massive hands, literally lifting him into the air, holding him up like a helpless puppet. He struggled frantically, kicking and squirming as the pressure increased on his skull, and let out a cry.

Illya kicked back as hard as he could with one leg, his foot landing squarely on his attacker's genitals. He was let go from the vice like grip and fell forward onto the deck, rolling to face his foe. His eyes searchedfor his gun and found it a few feet away; Illya scrambled to reach it, but a powerful wave crashed over the deck, soaking him and washing his Special out of sight.

There was an ear shattering clap of thunder as lightning flashed and Illya got a better look at the large Samoan covered in tattoos bending over, nursing his dignity. He raised his head, looking up at the blond Russian, and charged, sending Kuryakin scrambling backward, scuttling like crab as he tried to get to his feet.

Illya spotted the speargun, grabbed it and aimed but before he could pull the trigger Aries took hold of it and snapped it like a toy between his massive hands.

"Can we not talk this over?" Illya called, but he big man hoisted effortlessly him into the air under the armpits, swinging him in preparation to send him overboard.

Lightning flashed again with the skies opening up into a torrential downpour, distracting Aries for a split second, giving just enough time for Illya to bring both his cupped hands down hard, slapping them against the man's ears. The move, meant to damage the eardrums, simply disoriented Aries for just a moment, but not enough to make him loosen his grip.

The ferocious look in the man's eyes told Illya he had only succeeded in angering him further. "Eyes," he blurted out, giving himself an idea and reached with one hand, sinking his thumb inside the corner of Aries' eye, rupturing the eyeball. He dropped Illya instantly, grabbing his bloodied eye, howling and spinning in pain, sending himself reeling towards the railing. The boat heaved just the right way as Illya propelled himself into the air, smashing his feet against the stingray tattoo as his target on the Samoans back, sending him over the side.

Illya staggered forward to the cargo hold, opening the hatch and climbing inside to check on the crates stacked there, ensuring they were secure. There were dozens of them, with enough firepower to indeed wreak havoc and most likely destroy half the world. Thrush never ceased to amaze him in their duality of thought. They wanted to dominate the world, but were willing to nearly destroy that which they wanted to rule.

Without warning the Calypso lurched, sending the Russian flying, with crates toppling down free of their lashings and knocking him out cold.

When Illya came to he was completely disoriented, the boat now seemed to be listing badly to one side and the cargo hatch was closed.

He tried pushing against it but it was shut tight, it was then he realized there was water in the hold...Calypso was sinking. Illya slammed his shoulder repeatedly against the door but without success and repositioned himself, using both feet to kick against it. "_Chyort vozʹmi!" _He barked angrily.

Thankfully the emergency lights were still on in the hold, but Illya had no idea how long they would last. He frantically searched for something to use to pry open the hatch, but found nothing. It was then that he looked at one of the crates which had broken open, and reached inside it, taking out one of the explosive vials.

"Dare he try it?" He asked himself. What was the worst that could happen, he would be blown up...better that than drowning he supposed.

Illya positioned himself close to the hatch, opened the sealed glass vial and let the tiniest of drops fall on the hinge. He re-sealed the container and ran for cover, not knowing how quickly the compound would react to air. A few minutes later, there was a small explosion and the hatch was blown open, luckily nothing of significance to damage the cargo. There was a rush of air sucked out as Illya crawled through, hanging on for dear life. Calypso was leaning hard to starboard, taking on water as the waves crashed unmercifully across her.

Illya could sense something, not the rocking of the boat, but a different feeling of movement. Calypso's anchor must have pulled free and she was being pulled out to sea, and knowing the area, most likely she was headed towards the dangerous offshore coral reefs.

He grabbed onto whatever he could as another wave nearly knocked him over. A jagged bolt of lightning struck the main mast near its base, sending it bursting into flame. In light Illya spotted a large rubber raft, tied off to the aft and he struggled, making his way to it and hopefully his escape.

There was no choice but to lower himself into the water as the tides were too strong for him to pull the raft towards him. Illya hopped over the side of the now burning boat, hanging onto the rope as he pulled himself hand over hand in the water to the raft. He reached it and heaved himself up and over the side, gasping to catch breath as he collapsed onto his back. He needed to free it of the mooring line and as his fingers fumbled with the wet knot; he failed to notice the mast on Calypso beginning to sway.

Another wave hit the boat, sending the mast careering sideways, the top of it slamming into Illya and knocking unconscious.

.

The winds began to roar, with lightning and thunder filling the skies as Napoleon reached De Lossier and the women before they were able to cast off in the dinghy.

"That's as far as you go Gilles," Napoleon shouted over the din of the storm as rain stung his eyes. He wiped them with his soaked sleeve for all the good it did.

"Get him!" De Lossier barked, pointing with his dark cane.

Dread, Horror and Alarm charged wide0eyed at Solo, shrieking like demented harpies going for their kill.

Without hesitation, he raised his Special, darting them one after the other and watched as they collapsed into the muddy grass.

He looked for Gilles, and found him already in the dinghy untying the mooring line and starting the engine. Napoleon ran towards him, leaping from the dock, landing in the boat; tackling the Thrushman and dragging him down. De Lossier struck out with his cane, but this time Solo was ready as he grabbed it from him, and tossed it out into the water.

"Not this time my friend." He pulled back his fist as he held on tight to Gilles' lapel with the other, and landed a punch to the man's jaw. Napoleon was surprised it only took one punch as he held the unconscious man, guessing he must have had a 'glass jaw.'

The dingy rocked wildly side to side and Napoleon grabbed hold, steadying himself. In the distance, he could barely make out the shape of Calypso. It looked like she was on fire and when lightning flashed again, his suspicions were confirmed. She was listing to one side.

He took control of the rudder and pushed the engine to high, heading out to the faltering yacht, praying he wouldn't capsize in the process.

Napoleon baled as best he could, managing to keep the boat afloat as he reached the Calypso. He tied off the dingy, and climbed aboard the yacht in search of his partner.

"Illya!" He called out at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Ilyaaaaaa!"

There was no sign of him...anywhere.

He searched the cabin, finding the bodies of the captain and two crew members still alive, and dragged them one by one, getting them into the dinghy.

An immense wave hit the yacht, nearly washing him overboard. He struggled to his feet taking one last look for his partner, and as the lightning brightened the sky he saw the life raft tied to the stern, with a burned out mast laying across it. His gut told him his partner was there. Scrambling; he dove over the side and swam to it, and climbing in he found Illya laying there. He heaved a sigh of relief when he found a pulse and knew his friend was alive. He managed to remove the mast, shoving it off into the drink, and after untying the line he started the small outboard motor, making his way back to the side of the yacht where he had tied off the dinghy.

Napoleon lifted the still body of his partner into the much larger boat, untied it from the yacht and fired up the motor, turning the dinghy around and heading back on a diagonal line to the shore. Glancing back in the darkness; he could hear the sound of wood breaking apart and assumed Calypso had now met her fate on the coral reef.

Once reaching the beach, he fished everyone out of the small boat, dragging them to safety onto the sand, and collapsed in near exhaustion from his efforts. When he awoke, it was still raining, as well as the winds blowing, but the storm seemed to have decreased in its ferocity.

"Damn," he cursed. De Lossier was gone, he must have come to.

The crew of the yacht were still lying there, as was Illya, but all were still out cold.

Napoleon crawled to his partner, shaking him awake. "Hey buddy, we have to get out of this weather.

Illya moaned his response, bringing one of his hands to his aching head as he struggled to raise himself.

"Come on, lean on me," Napoleon said as he help him to his feet.

Illya staggered from his dizziness as Napoleon lead him along up towards the dock. They paused for a second, seeing Ned's boat foundering half beneath the water. The senior agent knew nothing needed to be said about Nathan's where abouts, the abandoned boat somehow said it all.

There were no signs of the Graiai, as Gilles must have rescued them, and that was confirmed when a black Mercedes sped past with De Lossier at the wheel, with Dread in the front passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

The agents tripped a few times as they crossed the grassy center court of the keep, and Napoleon deposited Illya against the statue of Neptune, though it provided little cover from the storm.

He disappeared, and a few minutes later arrived driving the Morris Minor that once belonged to the late Dr. Madison.

Illya didn't wait for him, and righted himself, staggering to the passenger side of the car and throwing himself in.

The wiper blades did little good against the rains as they had returned to a torrential downpour. Napoleon glanced over to his partner, who was looking rather grey, despite his tanned skin, realizing he was unconscious again. It was at that moment he decided it best to get Illya to KEMP as chasing after De Lossier in this storm was near impossible.


	21. Chapter 21

Elliott and Anita huddled together in the living room, sitting by candlelight as the power had indeed gone out. They were each sipping a cup of hot tea and munching on a packet of Huntley & Palmers biscuits. The wind was howling and at times it felt as though the cottage were shaking as the gusts hit and the rain pounded relentlessly on the clay tiled roof.

Water was blowing beneath the door, and a rolled towel was put there by the women to keep the entrance from being flooded.

Intense bolts of lightning streaked across the sky, lighting it up like in cascading bursts, followed by incredibly loud thunderclaps, startling them both. They managed to laugh at their childish behavior.

"Don't know why it's making me so jumpy,"Elliott said," Illya's created much louder explosions blowing up a satrap. He does loved playing with his explosives.

"He's quite an interesting man, so quiet and prepossessing. You'd never expect that he's...so dangerous?"

"He's that, but he's the gentlest man I know and a loving husband and father," Elliott said.

"I feel the same way about my Ned. Now will you please just drink your tea and relax; it won't do any good. Trust me, I'm as worried as you are."

Still they were both anxious, not just because of the intensity of the storm, but because both their husbands were out in it trying to complete a dangerous mission.

Elliott picked up her communicator for the fifth time, but again there was nothing but static. No doubt the weather was affecting the signal.

"Dammit, it's been hours. Ye think we'd have heard something by now." she cursed.

"I've lived here virtually all my life; when these storms hit there's nothing you can do but ride them out. Everything shuts down," Anita pointed to the silent transistor radio on the coffee table, as the sole station had gone off the air for the duration of the storm.

"Doesn't mean I have ta like it," Elliott huffed as now she began to pace, having abandoned her tea.

"I'm sure they'll be all right," Anita assured her, but deep down she was just as worried as Elliott.

A loud crash interrupted their conversation as the shutters covering one of the windows burst open, smashing the glass and sending the winds and rain blasting in.

The women scrambled, pushing a large bookcase in place to cover the opening to block the rain. They were both soaked after their efforts.

Elliott went to the bedroom, returning with shorts and two of Illya's undershirts. "This'll have ta do for now."

They changed, and Anita made them another pot of hot fresh tea. They'd need it to stay awake through the long night, and kept themselves distracted by mopping up the mess.

Morning and light greeted them at sunrise; the storm had passed and they immediately stepped outside to survey the damage.

The beautiful trees surrounding the cottage were bent and broken, with all the flowers blown away. The swimming pool was filled with palm fronds and debris, but the house for the most part looked unscathed except for the broken window and a few missing roof tiles.

Elliott's communicator chirped its call to her and she opened it quickly.

"Illya are ye all right?"

"Ellie, its Napoleon."

Her heart leapt to her throat. "Where is he, is he alright?"

He could hear the tinge of anxiety her voice. "Yes he is, and like you he's suffered a knock to the head. Actually a harder one than you, he's got a concussion, but he'll be fine. Are you and Anita okay?"

Her voice calmed at the news. "Yes fine...where are you?"

"At KEMP. I brought him here after...well after all was said and done."

"So the mission was a success?"

"Yes and no."

"What's that supposed ta mean?"

Anita heard Napoleons voice as she walked from around the corner of the house. "Can I talk to Nate please?"

"Ummm," Napoleon faltered for a second, " He's not here right now." He couldn't give her the news that Nate was missing, and possibly dead, not like this. "Can you two make it here to the hospital?"

"We can try." Anita replied, "Hopefully the roads won't be too bad, it really depends if there's a lot of trees down. The power is out here so that's wreaking havoc I'm sure."

"If you can make it, could you bring some clothes for your husband Elliott, he ended up in only his bathing suit."

"Don't tell me the Speedo?" She smiled, picturing him dressed, or rather nearly undressed in it. She didn't give Napoleon the chance at a wisecrack. "On our way, out."

The women made their way carefully down the stairs, tip-toeing around the debris until they made it to the main office. There were trees down everywhere, and a few broken windows as well, as it seemed the building didn't fare much better than Heavens Above.

"Hello ladies," a young female clerk greeted them cheerfully, "Happy to see your survived the storm without any injury, though I heard about your problem with the scooter accident. How about our cottage, did it hold up well?"

"Broken shutters and window, and a few of yer roof tiles are gone. Shame about the trees and flowers...and the pool's a mess."

"You were quite brave to stay there," the clerk shook her head. "May I offer you a Continental breakfast this morning...why let a little storm disturb the routine of life? We'd like to make your stay as pleasant as possible in spite of what Mother Nature decided to do to us." She seemed to be addressing only Elliott, summarily ignoring Anita.

"What do ye think Mrs. Saunders, Continental breakfast with me?" She said it looking directly at the girl. "Ye don't mind if my friend eats with me, even though she's not a guest here do ye now?" Elliott pushed, watching as the girl became tongue tied but after letting her squirm for a minute; Elliott let it go.

"Actually no thanks ta that breakfast, we've got ta get ta KEMP, my husband is there." Elliott dismissed her.

The girl composed herself, trying to make idle chatter. "I've heard the roads are not passable for cars at the moment. What if I may be so bold to aske what happened to your husband...was he caught in the _riots_ too?" This time she was staring directly at Anita.

"No, fishing accident"

The clerk clicked her tongue. "You're not having much luck visiting Bermuda, I hope you won't hold it against us?"

Elliott sensed the girl was that serious, given the tourist trade was so important to them. "Well there might just be some things that I will... now do ye have any scooters here?"

"Yes ma'am we do," she answered nervously. "And you're welcome to use them if you like...ummm, on the house, but please be careful as there are power lines down as well."

"You can rest assured we will." Anita spoke up, snatching the keys from the girl's hand.

The storm had done what some had hoped and quenched the fires burning in Hamilton. The rioters enthusiasm, however, was not quelled as the violence swept on until the storm just became too intense for them to continue. The underlying reasons for the disorder remained however, and the city of Hamilton remained tense.

Elliott and Anita made their way along the now sand covered roads, periodically encountering downed trees as surveyed the damage along their route to the hospital. Things were not as bad as they had imagined.

They arrived at KEMP finding a sea of people there seeking medical attention, or just attention in general. Some were looking for missing loved ones, or for help with flooding, and questions about the power returning...not unexpected chaos in the wake of such an atmospheric event. The hospital was the only structure for miles that had power, but only due to emergency backup generators.

The females agents bandaged heads seemed to allow them quicker access to the hospital, bypassing the triage station that had been set up in the parking lot. Elliott inquired at the desk for her husband's room and was directed to the third floor.

They needed to take the stairs as the power was being used for essential services only, and Elliott was not proud to admit she was huffing and puffing a bit when they finally reached the upper landing.

The duty nurse directed them to Illya's room, and the women walked quietly inside, seeing Napoleon seated next to his partners bed. The American was rather beat up himself and looked spent.

Illya lay with his face turned to the wall, with gauze bandageing wrapped around his forehead.

"Hi ladies," Napoleon greeted them wearily, "glad you made it alright."

He stood, offering the chair to Elliott. "No, sit, "she whispered. "Ye look as if ye need it more than me...how is he?"

"In and out of it. They said its not serious. You and I both know he's got a hard Russian skull, so he'll be fine." He tried to smile, but his idea to do so was half baked, as his jaw was pretty sore.

"Napoleon, where's my Nathan?" Anita asked calmly, though suspicion was beginning to creep into her soul.

He slowly rose from the chair with an unhappy look in his eyes as this was a moment he'd been dreading.

"Anita, we need to talk, you see Nate.."

She didn't let him finish and burst into tears, falling into Napoleon's arms.

"'Nita, we don't know what's happened to him. All I know is he's missing. There's still hope he'll be found, that storm was pretty wild and we were all out in the middle of it." He said that, trying to believe it, but Anitas reaction told him his words did little good.

Elliott rubbed her hand across Anitas back, knowing she could say nothing to soothe her.

"If you two will excuse me," 'Nita sniffed. "I need to be alone for a few minutes."

Illya woke, speaking up as she left the room. "Is he...?" He asked, as he tried hiking himself to a better position in the bed, fussing with his hospital gown to get comfortable.

"Yes, I have a feeling he is." Napoleon answered somberly. His communicator called loudly to him, and he answered it while Elliott closed the door for privacy. She sat down on the bed beside Illya, holding his hand in silence.

"Mr. Solo, what the devil is going on down there? I sent you a message to contact me at your earliest convenience, but I think even you have overstepped the bounds of not getting back to me in a timely manner. And what is it I hear that you have gotten the Kuryakins involved in this affair after I expressly told you not to do so." The Old Man was angry, talking through gritted teeth while sucking away on the mouthpiece of his briar pipe.

There was a sudden pause in Waverly's tirade, and that Napoleon supposed was his window of opportunity to speak up.

"Sir, communications were down due to the weather conditions, and we were acting in all haste to beat the storm and complete the mission...Illya, Mr. Kuryakin discovered information vital to the completion of my assignment and told me..."

"Sir," Illya called. "I forced Mr. Solo to let me work with him, it is not his fault."

"Yes,"Elliott chimed in, "Mr. Solo needed assistance and we gave it to him, though it was unsolicited.

"You three would lie to save each other's derrieres in a heartbeat." Waverly harumphed his impatience.

"With all due respect sir, we're telling the truth." Napoleon insisted.

"At this moment that's neither here nor there... Mr. Solo if you'd be so good as to give me your report."

He took a deep breath before replying. "In a nutshell, the satrap was destroyed. The hard copy of the formula was washed out to sea and the yacht carrying the supply of the compound sank on the reefs off Sandy's Parish. Gilles De Lossier and his female companions unfortunately escaped."

"The crates containing the explosives are, I suspect," Illya added," for the most part are intact, and being beneath the water there is no chance of the compound being exposed to the air allowing it to detonate. I do, however, recommend a cleanup crew be sent down immediately to retrieve the cargo...no need risking any divers finding it later on as they explore the coral reefs."

"Very well gentlemen, and Mrs. Kuryakin, I will expect full written reports upon your return to New York. Mr. Solo, you are to remain to oversee the cleanup operation. A crew will be arriving from our Jamaica office shortly. Mr. Kuryakin, there is something important that I will need to discuss with you once you and your wife return. Enjoy what little is left of your honeymoon. Waverly Out."

"What was that all about?" Elliott looked at her husband.

"I have no clue."

.

The next morning Illya was released from the hospital and both he and Elliott removed their bandages as soon as they climbed into a waiting taxi, joining Napoleon there. "No need ta look like the walking wounded," Elliott quipped, noting the band aids on Napoleon forehead and cheek bone.

It was a quick trip to the Horizon Estates, and there the Kuryakins decided it was time to go home, feeling the honeymoon was over.

Elliott complained, but not too bitterly. "I swear, every time we try to go away, something terrible happens...there was that time in your family's cabin in New York, and when we went down to the beach in New Jersey. I think we're jinxed." *

Napoleon laughed at her. "Ellie, it's all just coincidence and you know it...right Illya?"

"I am beginning to agree with my wife. I am surprised you do not, considering you are so suspicious about such things as Friday the 13th."

"You know tovarisch, I didn't think of it like that, hmm." Napoleon clicked his tongue in contemplation.

There was a knock at the door, and immediately Napoleon stepped to the side with his gun drawn. "Who is it?" He asked, though not expecting it to be Gilles De Lossier, someone who would hardly knock.

"The police department sir. Mr. Manning? We have recovered your wifes handbag and are here to return it."

"Just a minute,"Illya called. He opened the door while his partner stood behind it, just in case.

It was in fact a local Bobbie, and he had Elliott's straw purse in his hand.

He spotted her and offered it. "This is yours correct Madam?"

"Yes it is." Elliott was shocked to see it again.

"Would you examine the contents to see if anything is missing please; if there is I can fill out the report now."

Elliott dumped the contents on the dining table, finding everything still there, her passport, wallet with her cash and all ID, keys, communicator and a small book with family photographs. "I'm impressed," she smiled. "There's hope fer Bermuda yet."

"Thank you Mrs. Manning, I appreciate hearing that." The Bobbie understood what she was hinting at. "Good day to you all."

Napoleon's communicator chirped. "Solo here."

"It's Anita." Her voice sounded distant. "The harbor patrol found Nathan...Nathan's body. He'd been shot."

"I'm so sorry, what can I do for you?"

"Nothing. He died happy as he was back at doing something he loved...you can never really take an agent out of the field can you?"

"No it's in our bones. Anita, let me know about the arrangements. U.N.C.L.E. will, of course, take care of them."

"That's what I'm calling you about. Mr. Waverly contacted me not long ago to let me know and to thank me for Nathan's sacrifice. Nates funeral will be tomorrow, Napoleon. Minor Out"

"We can wait ta leave until after the wake, I think," Elliott said sadly."We should be there for her."

Illya nodded his agreement.


	22. Chapter 22

Two days later beneath an early and bright Bermuda sun a small memorial service was held honoring the life and service of Nathan Saunders to U.N.C.L.E. Napoleon read a brief eulogy, giving his own thoughts and memories of Nate, as well as reading a message from Alexander Waverly himself.

He stood beside the simple oak coffin, ready to be lowered into the vault beneath the sandy ground in the cemetery of Holy Trinity Anglican Church, that stood in the shelter of Mount Wyndham, with the tranquil graveyard overlooking the waters Harrington Sound. The white steepled church itself stood amidst a sea of tall palm trees that withstood the fury of the storm days earlier. Anita said it was a place Nate would have liked very much.

Napoleon read Waverly's message. "Every man and woman who has chosen to serve our organization has recognized their lives were secondary to that of their mission. It was understood and accepted bravely. That was not a very comforting message to their families and friends who always took a backseat to their loved ones devotion to the service of U.N.C.L.E. Yet we are all one family, and feel deeply, the loss of one of our own. We hold the memories of those who have given their lives in the line of duty as shining beacons of honor and bravery. They are our heros in the battle against evil and tyranny in the world. And we thank them for their sacrifice. Nathan Saunders was not only my agent in his younger years, but he was my friend and he will be missed. Until we meet again Nate, keep a weather eye on the horizon."

A flag bearing the U.N.C.L.E. insignia that had been draped over Nathans coffin was carefully folded by the pallbearers...the team from the Jamaican office. It was handed to Napoleon, who in turn passed it to Nathan's wife.

"I'm so sorry Anita," he whispered, "If there's anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask." He took her hand and gently held it for a moment.

"Thank you, " she nodded, wiping away her tears with a white embroidered handkerchief. "And thank Mr. Waverly for his wonderful words...he offered me a position in Section II you know. I heard the three of you gave him a glowing report about me."

"We only told the truth," Napoleon said.

"Thanks. Tell him I'll let him know about that promotion. I have a lot of thinking to do. I may want to stay here and help get my country's problems straightened out."

"I will. Take care of yourself please?" He leaned over, giving her a light peck on the cheek.

Illya and Elliott made their condolences, in a long line of friends and family. Anita hugged them both and turned to the chair behind her, passing two small green shopping bags to Elliott. "Here these are for the children, a gift from me. You never got the chance to shop for them did you?"

"Anita, I am so touched, ta think you would go do this during yer time of grief...ye really are an amazing woman."

"It's nothing really, just two conch shells, can't have children being disappointed can we? They're a little something to remind you of the beauty of Bermuda."

Illya, and Elliott made their way across the simple cemetery to a waiting taxi that would take them to the airport for their return flight home.

Napoleon said his goodbyes there at the terminal. "I'll see you two back in New York. You know I was thinking that I might bring Bella here for a little honeymoon of our own, why don't you think about coming with us to sort of make up for this disaster. This really is a beautiful place when you don't have any stray birds to deal with."

"No thank you," Illya smiled, offering his hand to his partner. "I think Elliott is agreement with me that we are better off staying home."

"What's the phrase from that movie...there's no place like home." Elliott chimed in.

"Up to you, but the invitation holds." Napoleon grinned, nodding a little salute to them. He stood watching as they walked across the macadam to board their flight.

The breeze was warm but comfortable, the humidity had dissipated for the moment and Elliott sighed, letting the wind blow her red hair one last time before she twisted up into a bun as they climbed the steps leading to the entrance to the jetliner.

The flight back to New York was smooth and turbulence free, allowing the Kuryakins to relax together. The honeymoon started gently but ended beating up both of them and it would be good to get home their not so hectic lives with their children. If it had been an assignment for them in Bermuda, it would have been a completely different mindset and they would have been prepared for what came their way...still they handled it like the professionals they were, but the end result left them a bit disenchanted.

"Vacations are definitely over rated,"Illya mumbled as he settled in, beginning to doze off.

"Excuse me? Ye seemed to be having a good time when it started out."

"That was because we were together, that part of it I did truly enjoy. Often there is so little time in the day left for time to ourselves, what with work and the children and now with our little Anton on the way, there will be even less time."

"Ah sure, but wasn't it ye who said we needed to do this before the baby came, as there wouldn't be time later?"

"True." He smiled, closing his eyes. "If it had not been for this Gilles De Lossier, everything would have been fine, but as you said, it is our ill fortune, or so it seems. What did you call it...a jinx? Such is life for U.N.C.L.E. agents," he whispered as he leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep as usual.

Elliott did the same, resigning herself in agreement with her husband. She closed her eyes as well but the baby decided at that moment to give a little kick. "Ew, keep yer opinions to yerself young man." She patted her tummy, finally falling asleep as well.

The announcement made by the pilot that the jet was about to land came over the loudspeaker, advising the passengers to return their seats and tables to the upright positions. That woke the Kuryakins instantly, both rubbing their eyes, somewhat surprised at how quickly the flight had gone.

They gathered their carry-ons, walking down the aisle, passing through the first class section to the exit and towards the smiling face of the stewardess waiting there, as well as the copilot.

Illya glanced at four people still seated in first class, a man with long dark hair wearing sunglasses, beside him a woman with silver grey hair wearing a blue mini dress, behind them were seated two other women that could have been twins to the woman in blue...triplets, he corrected himself mentally.

The stewardess' voice distracted him. "Thank you for flying American Airlines, we hope you keep us in mind for all your future travel needs."

"Thanks folks," said the copilot, 'have a safe trip home."

They walked down the stairs to the blacktop, with Illya grasping his arm around his wife's waist. "It is good to be home, " he whispered. "Mmmm, remember, we still have off for two more days."

"What do ye have in mind?" She laughed.

"You will see when we are home tonight, once the children are safely tucked in their beds... make sure you wear that black feathery thing with the garters."

"Aw Jay-sus, didn't take you long to being your randy self again, did it?"

He flicked his eyebrows, giving her a wicked smile. "You cannot keep a randy Russian down."

Their taxi to the Solo penthouse seemed longer than the flight, and having given Bella a heads up they were arriving home early, and asking not to tell the children. They wanted to surprise them.

Demya, Lourdes, Poli and Luci had just finished their lunch, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with nice big glasses of milk, and a treat of Oreo cookies. They were having a contest to see who could lick away the white middle the fastest, when the doorbell rang.

The doorman had buzzed Illya and Elliott in, so Bella knew it was them.

She opened the door, gave each of them a hug and a kiss, but held her finger to her lips to shush them as they walked in. Illya pointed to his wristwatch as the taxi was waiting for them so it wouldn't be a long visit.

The children were giggling and squirming as they sat at the table, and one of them knocked over an empty tumbler.

"_I chto zhe vy narushite syeĭchas_and what did you break now?" _Illya called out to them in a stern voice, as he knelt down on one knee preparing himself for their onslaught.

"Paaaapa!" Lala squealed. She jumped down from her chair, charged him, joined by her brother; they nearly knocked their father over, and would have done the same thing to their mother had Illya not latched onto them.

"Careful, careful, you do not want to hurt your baby brother...he is still sleeping inside your Mama's tummy."

"We missed you," Demya spoke up first.

"And we missed ye too,"Elliott said, ruffling her sons blond hair.

"Did you bring us presents?" Lala cut to the quick on that one.

"Presents? Who said anything about presents? Only good children get those," their father teased.

"Illya don't be mean." Elliott chided him, "Of course we have presents, something very special that a friend sent for ye."

Lourdes Mary jumped up and down clapping her hands, "Can we...may we have them now? Please please?"

"When we get home, be patient," Illya told her after which, he turned his attention to Bella. "Napoleon will be home at the most, in a few days...clean up duty."

"He's not as beat up as you two are, is he?" She whispered, not missing their cuts and bruises.

"He is actually better than us, mostly bruises and no head injury." Illya whispered back to her.

Poli and Luci had been waiting patiently to this point but Appollonia, the more rambunctious of the two and usually the ringleader, finally spoke up in her little voice.

"So what are we chopped chicken liver," She defiantly called out with her hands on her hips.

"Poli don't be rude," her mother called to her. "Now come and say hello you Uncle Illya and Aunt Ellie.

Poli slipped down from her chair, followed by her shadow of a sister, doing as she was told.

"Hiya Unca Illya, hiya Aunt Ellie. When is my daddy coming home?"

"Yea, when is daddy coming?" Luci piped in.

"Yer Da will be home in two shakes of a lamb's tail," Elliott told them.

"What does that mean Mommy?" Luci asked.

"It means baby that your Daddy will be home soon."

"Come," Illya said. "It is time for us to go home as well. He scooped Lourdes and his son up into his arms. "Say bye."

The children waved their farewells; they always missed the Solo twins when leaving, but were happy to be with their parents and going home.

Elliott gave Bella a big hug, thanking for taking care of the children and Boris. "Oh my Lord we nearly forgot the cat!" She laughed out loud.

"Oh no, I wouldn't let that happen." Bella produced the pet carrier with Boris curled up inside it, not looking very happy.

"Was she a bad kitty Bella?"

"No but she definitely let Napoleon know she's not too fond of him before he left on this last mission... a little ankle biting shall we say."

"That's surprising, she loves Illya ta death, ye'd think she'd sense he and Napoleon are best friends by now, but come ta think of it, every time Napoleon has been in our home Boris tends to disappear."

The Kuryakins gathered up their little brood, heading homewards, and thoroughly enjoyed the innocent chatter and laughter of their children as they babbled on about their adventures with their Solo cousins.

As soon as they made it up the steps and into the brownstone in Washington Square, Lourdes Mary stopped them, demanding their presents.

"Greed does not suit you _ma petite fille,_" Illya told her, "patience little one. Your parents are tired, give us a few minutes and we will give you your presents once you have unpacked your suitcases."

Demya and Lourdes clambered up the stairs as fast as they could to get their assigned task.

"And put the dirty clothes in the hamper Demmy, I'll not have ye taking on yer father's habits."

"Yes Mama," he called down to her.

Illya stared at his wife. "I stopped that a long time ago."

"Yah right, _Yabloko ot yabloni nedaleko padayet_like father like son_; _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree._" She picked up one of his black turtlenecks draped over the armchair in the livingroom, waving it at him. And he promptly picked up one of her brassieres from the floor, with a smile.

"If you recall the reason why these articles of clothing are here in the first place enh?" He grinned at her.

"Ewps, forgot now didn't I." Elliott walked over to him, holding the turtle neck up, covering his eyes with it, and leaned in, kissing him quite amorously.

"And you said I was randy, " he whispered, kissing her back.

The children came bounding down the stairs, with Lourdes squealing in delight." "Ewww Mama and Papa are kissing! _Mama and Papa kissing in a tree, ki-s-s-s-ng!"_

"That's k-i-s-s-i-n-g. my sweet," Illya called to her.

"Can we have our presents how Papa?" She asked impatiently.

"That is may I," he corrected her.

"Paaaapa. Pleeeeese may I?" She batted her big blue eyes at him, melting his heart instantly."

"Heaven forbid this child ever joined the ranks of Thrush. She'd have them ruling the world in no time."

Elliott produced the green gift bags from their suitcase.

The children reached in eagerly, examining the conch shells.

"What are they?" Lourdes eyes went wide.

"They shells," her brother said, "conch shells."

"What's a conch?"

"Its a marine mollusk of the family Strombidae."

"Jay-sus Illya, if he doesn't sound just like ye,"Elliott teased.

Illya was pleased at his son's attempt to answer his sister, but he needed a little coaching.

"Make it a simpler answer for her to understand _moy syn_."

"Yes Papa. Lala, it's a creature that lives in the ocean and the shell is its house."

"Like the great pink sea snail?" She asked innocently.

Demya thought for a second, recalling her reference."Oh, Doctor Doolittle, yes that's sort of like it but much much smaller than the pink sea snail. Maybe they're more like cousins."

Elliott and Illya grinned as they listened to Demyas little tutorial to his sister.

"Did you know, that the conch can also be blown like a trumpet," Illya added. "People who live on islands in the Caribbean use them to call to each other."

"Call like a telephone?" Lala looked perplexed.

"No, not quite," he laughed.

"Could you show us Papa?" Demya asked.

Illya picked up one of the shells, taking a deep breath; he put the opening up to his mouth and blew. The sound that came out was not what he expected, as it sounded more like a sick elephant calf. That sent his family into a fit of laughter. He took another breath, trying a second time with the same result.

"I can get this...you will see." He took and even deeper breath and with a mighty heave, he produced a clear single note, that was very long and resonant.

Boris let out a loud meow in response, and this time everyone howled together with laughter.

The children went off happily with their conch shells in hand, trying to duplicate the sound their father made.

"That'll keep them occupied for some time,"Elliott whispered, "Let's say you and I disappear upstairs for some..."

Illya pressed his fingers to her lips. "Remember, the walls have two little sets of ears..."

It was decided to ask Demya to stay downstairs with his sister, keeping her occupied as their parents needed just a little time alone to talk for a bit. They went up to their bedroom and after locking the door behind them began to undress.

"Do ye know what yer son said to me after I told him that we needed some alone time?"

Illya pursed his lips, expecting an interesting answer, knowing his son.

"He said, "Didn't you and Papa get enough alone time in Bermuda? The cheek of that child," she snickered as her husband pulled her into their bed.


	23. Chapter 23

The next morning Illya headed out early to his appointment with Mr. Waverly. He took the time before leaving to type out his field report in his usual efficient prose and again footnoting that Napoleon did not seek his assistance.

It was raining steadily and he decided to take a taxi to headquarters rather than walk the two blocks to retrieve his car from where it was parked.

He hailed down a yellow cab with a loud whistle for the short trip and when he stepped out of front of Del Floria's he happened to notice an oddly familiar looking man standing not far from the entrance. He was dressed in a black trench coat with a fedora tilted on his head, and sported a black eye patch. He was leaning against the end of the railing to the apartment building next door, looking out at the traffic, and Illya assumed he was waiting for someone.

He thought nothing of it and trotted down the short flight of steps and through the front door, and as always was greeted by the familiar tinkling of the brass door bell.

Nodding his greeting to Del, he proceeding into the dressing room, automatically turning the coat hook. Illya often thought of the story Alice in Wonderland as he stepped through to reception; it being like going down the mysterious rabbit hole to another very different world.

"Good morning Christine," he greeted the agent in charge as she handed him his badge.

"How was your vacation?"

"As Napoleon would say my dear..._peachy._" He disappeared though the secondary entrance without another word as the door silently opened and made his way to Alexander Waverly's office with his finished report in hand.

He entered the conference room, finding the Old Man, as usual, seated at his console; his eyes affixed to some document.

"Good morning Mr. Kuryakin, welcome back. Please be seated."Waverly said without looking up.

He rose from his chair and very much out of character, walked over to his Russian, sitting down beside him. The look on his face, to Illya, seemed grave as he assumed he would receive some sort of tongue lashing for involving himself in Napoleon's assignment. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Young man, though I was not pleased at you and your wife overstepping your bounds in Bermuda, the end result, however, was at least for the most part, a satisfactory one."

"My apologies sir, but at the time I deemed it a necessary action. I will endeavor not to let it happen again."

"Balderdash. If I thought my agents could not make decisions such as that in the field, then I wouldn't have very a strong Section II, would I? However, there were certain circumstances that came to light recently, which you were not aware of, making me concerned for your, shall I say, safety?"

"Not KGB _again_?" Illya moaned.

"Oh no," Waverly chuckled, "Nothing as serious as that."

"I am confused then."

"You see Mr. Kuryakin, there has been much discussion regarding you among Section I and it seems that a decision has been made as to your career with U.N.C.L.E."

"I am not being fired am I?" He blurted out.

"On the contrary, you are being given a promotion to our office in West Berlin."

"CEA sir? I thought that position was still filled..."

"No Mr. Kuryakin, not CEA. You are to join the ranks of Section I as Chief of our Western European operations. This is quite an unprecedented honor as you haven't even neared retirement age.

Illya was shocked.

"Let me be the first to congratulate you. You will be the youngest member of our Section and that is quite a feat, given that Section I has traditionally been spearheaded by older agents with a longer lifetime of experience. Our Section felt that your habit of precise attention to detail as well as your focus and dedication to the organization made you an ideal candidate for this position."

Illya sat in silence, staring at the conference table. His silence perplexed the Old Man. "You have nothing to say regarding this Mr. Kuryakin?"

Illya blinked his eyes wide open as he gathered his thoughts. "Sir, would Mr. Solo not be better suited for this, he is the one being groomed for such a position of leadership in Section I, not me."

"That is true young man, but he will continue in his holding pattern, per se, until it is his time to move up. He is indeed my successor, but I don't plan on leaving my position just yet." Waverly winked at him with a wry smile.

The door to the conference room opened, with Napoleon Solo walking in unannounced.

"Ah speak of the devil, Mr. Solo. Welcome back to you as well. You are just in time for a very special announcement that will explain why I was so vehemently against you involving Mr. Kuryakin in your assignment. May I introduce the newest member of Section I, in charge of our western European arena."

If ever there was a shocked look on Napoleon's face, it was now. His mouth hung open, and for a moment, he was completely speechless.

"Ugh...umm, congratulations." He offered his hand to his now former partner, stumbling over his words.

Illya heard the discomfort in his voice, as no doubt, this announcement did not sit well with him and there was of course the added shock value.

"And when is this effective sir?" Napoleon asked.

"As soon as Mr. Kuryakin can make his travel arrangements, in the meantime Mrs. Kuryakin will remain behind to settle their private matters before she and the family join him. Oh and yes, Mrs. Kuryakin will continue as Chief of Section III there. It took a little maneuvering and transferring of people and such, but I believe it has been settled most satisfactorily."

"And now to the other business at hand, Mr. Solo please make your report?" Waverly said, resuming his usual seat behind his console.

Napoleon was still taken aback by the news about Illya and took a moment to compose himself before he spoke.

"Anita Minor sends you her thanks and asks that you give her a little more time to decide about her promotion to Section II. As to finishing up the mission; the cleanup went well. The remains of the satrap having been gone over with a fine tooth comb, gave us a copy of the formula, found intact inside a metal file cabinet. The only other copy that I am aware of was washed out to sea."

"The crates containing the compound were all retrieved as they were still inside the hold of the Calypso; apparently the boat did not completely break up on the reefs as we first thought. R & D has the vials containing the liquid explosives now and will dispose of most of them."

"And lastly, we, unfortunately, were unable to locate Gilles De Lossier or his three female companions and assume they have since left Bermuda." Napoleon dropped several photographs of De Lossier and his Graiai on the conference table. He was about to spin them round to the Old Man, when Illya stopped him.

"Napoleon, those people were on our flight home to New York yesterday, I saw them sitting in the first class section." Illya pressed his pointer finger to Gilles' picture. "And _he _was was standing outside of headquarters when I arrived this morning. I am sure of it now. He was leaning against the railing to the steps next door, wearing a black rain coat, a hat, he had a black eye patch over his left eye, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail."

Waverly stepped to his security monitors, hitting a switch to bring up the view outside on the sidewalk in front of Del Floria's...there was no one there. He buzzed for Security.

"Yes sir."

"Waverly loaded the photographs in to his fax machine. "I am sending you the images of a T.H.R.U.S.H. operative named Gilles Alexandros De Lossier, as well as three of his known associates, their names are..." He turned to Solo.

"Deino the taller one is also called Dread, Enyo the smaller of the three is also known as Horror and Pamphredo, is referred to as Alarm."

"Hmm yes, quite unusual names. Did you get that?" Waverly asked.

"Yes sir, and the photos have arrived."

"I'd like headquarters to maintain a yellow alert as Mr. De Lossier was seen outside not long ago."

"Yes sir, anything else to add Mr. Waverly?"

"Not at this time. Out." A light above the entrance to the conference room turned to yellow as the alert was initiated. Every door in headquarters had such lights to notify the entire staff of any conditions. Only a red alert would activate the emergency kaxon, and send headquarters into immediate lockdown.

Waverly tucked the photographs into Napoleons report folder with a huff. "That will be all for now gentlemen. Dismissed."

Napoleon and Illya left the conference room together.

"I thought you were still technically on your honeymoon?" Napoleon asked.

"I am, but as you recall Mr. Waverly said he needed to speak to me about something important. I presumed it was to discipline me for interfering with your assignment, but to the contrary it was this promotion to Section I that he was on about...Napoleon I sense you are not pleased at this news."

"Well, I sort of assumed I'd be joining Section I before you...you know, being that I'm CEA and senior agent."

"You are not jealous of this are you?"

"Jealous, no...a little envious maybe but I'll get over it."

"Napoleon to be honest, I am not sure if I want this promotion."

"Really?" I thought you were leaning towards being in the field less with the new baby on the way?"

"Not so, I have thought about it and spoken with Elliott. My heart is in the field. As you said it my friend, it is in our bones."

"So what are you going to do about the promotion?"

"I think am going to speak with my wife. Her opinion matters but I know she will go along with what I decide. It was the same back when she was pregnant with Demya. I wanted her to leave the field, but she was not ready. I learned that decision was hers to make and hers alone when it was time. I know she will feel that same way for me."

"Illya are you sure you don't want the promotion?" Napoleon repeated his question. "It really would make life a lot easier for you and the family."

"Not really, I am not ready to give up the field just yet. Taking the promotion would mean uprooting my family to West Germany and that is not fair to them. They are happy in Washington Square. I never thought I would say this, but I have become very much attached to my home, and I know Elliott is as well. And to say the least, I did not struggle all this time to become an American Citizen for me to abandon living here...it is the only home my children have ever really known. I know what is like to be without a home and a country, and I never want my children to feel that way and be alienated from the country of their birth. And of course...I would miss you."

"Wow thanks, I misjudged you. Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, there is nothing wrong with how you feel. Being in Section I is part of your strategy in life is it not? Hearing that I would waltz into it without even having been a CEA would be, to say the least, a bit unsettling."

Illya always had a way of dropping his voice an octave or so to make his point and at the moment it worked quite well on his partner.

"You're right, but I did mean it when I congratulated you. If you change your mind about going to Section I, then you have my full support...I'd miss you too of course, the ugh, touch typing my reports that is." He nudged Illya in the side, winking at him, trying to make the mood more light hearted.

"Owww, you hit me right on a bad bruise." Illya winced.

"Oops, feel free then to retaliate, pick a spot any spot. I'm sure you'll find a nice blossoming bruise somewhere on me." Napoleon raised his hands over his head in mock surrender.

"The imagery is quite enough...you having a purple_ zhopa, _that is." Illya laughed at his parther's antics. "I will talk to you later, as I am going home now. I still have one day left of my so-called honeymoon."

"Hey the offer of a return trip to Bermuda still holds," Napoleon said as he took a few backwards steps down the hall, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Again, no thank you. I agree with Elliott...there is no place like home," he called out to his partner, watching him disappear around a corner. Saying what he just had out loud made him suddenly spin on his heels with an about face, heading back to Waverly's conference room. He walked inside as soon as the doors opened.

"Mr. Waverly sir, a moment of your time please?

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin is there a problem?"

He decided not to sit, but to stand in front of the Old Man.

"Do I have a choice in regards to this promotion, as it sounds as if the decision has already been made for me. I know it is our duty to go where we are told and to do as we are told, but I think it was rather unfair not to have at least asked me first if I was even interested."

"Of course you have a choice young man," Waverly chuckled. " We're not the GRU or the KGB. I am surmising you are having second thoughts this soon."

"No sir, not second thoughts at all. I simply do not want the position, for a good many reasons. I prefer, if you do not mind, to remain in Section II."

"No one can force you into accepting this position, and there will be no repercussions should you decide to decline it. Am I clear on this Illya?

It was a rare occasion that Alexander Waverly addressed him by his first name, telling him the man did care about him, possibly more than he imagined. He suddenly felt that fatherly feeling he had years ago when Waverly encouraged him to come work for U.N.C.L.E.

"Very well then, I won't ask you those reasons as, your declining of the promotion will suffice. Thank you for your honesty son."

"And thank you sir for considering me to join your ranks." Illya's face brightened, Waverly had called him son. Now that was truly an honor. He reached out, offering his hand to Waverly, realizing it was something he had rare opportunity to do. The Old Man's grip was still firm for a man of his age, as the two of them clasped hands together.

"Sir may I ask one favor, please no mention of this to Elliott?"

"It will be our little secret," Alexander winked. " Now off with you, go home to your wife and family while you have the time." Waverly waved him out the door.

.

Napoleon left headquarters via the parking garage in his personal vehicle, his baby, a dark blue convertible Pontiac GTO. It was no longer a new car but he kept her in beautiful condition. He thought about it for a second, wondering if there might be another Solo baby on the way...maybe it was time for a more sensible car, just like Illya and Elliott had. Though his partner had managed to keep his green Mustang, but that was Elliotts doing and not his.

He slowly pulled the car up the ramp onto the street, giving a little wave to Jimmy Jimerson, newly promoted to head of the motor pool, as well as being in charge of the garage itself, loaded with its security cameras, and automatic machine guns.

The rain had stopped, and Napoleon decided to let the top down, as the weather was pleasant, thought still humid, but not as much as it had been in Bermuda. He daydreamed a little as he headed down the road, thinking how lovely a place Bermuda was; making him all the more determined to take Bella there. He smiled, thinking if she weren't already pregnant, then they could try to make a baby in that relaxed tropical setting.

Napoleon was looking forward very much to just seeing his family and holding them close to him; those thoughts distracted him enough not to take notice of a dark car pulling out after him from where it had been standing alongside the curb, not far from the parking garage exit.

The roads were still wet, and for that reason he was driving a little cautiously, when a woman stepped onto the street, slipping and falling in front of his car. He slammed on the brakes, feeling the car skid a little, and threw on the emergency flashers as he rushed out of the convertible, praying he hadn't hit her.

When he reached the front of the car, there was no one there; he heard footsteps approaching from behind him and turned, reaching for his Special, but it was too late. Napoleon felt the sharp sting of a dart hitting him in the shoulder and reached over with his hand, pulling it out, staring at it.

His eyes rolled backwards as he collapsed against the side of the Pontiac, and slipped like a rag doll down to the wet pavement.


	24. Chapter 24

Napoleon took a deep inhalation through his nostrils as he woke, not being able to breathe through his mouth as it was securely covered with a piece of duct tape. He was sitting upright in a chair, his hands tied tightly behind his back and his head, not surprisingly, was pounding with a sharp headache. This was a consistent reaction to the sleep dart that Illya rightly complained about many times, concluding that T.H.R.U.S.H. really needed to update their formula.

He blinked several times as he tried to get his eyes to focus and adjust to the dim light, allowing him to take a better look at his surroundings. From the looks of it; just a small storage room of brick walls, no windows and a metal door.

"Ah so you're awake at last."

He recognized the voice instantly and the person it belonged to stepped out of the shadows, reaching out and ripping the tape away from his mouth.

Napoleon held back any reaction, instead, stretching open his mouth a bit before he decided to speak. "Dread, so we meet again. I didn't think I'd run into you quite this soon."

"And you supposed we'd let you get away with what you did to us did you?"

"Excuse me, a few sleep darts aren't that bad...well not as bad as Thrush ones. When are you people ever going to change your formula? It makes for terrible headaches."

"I'm not talking about _that_ you idiot, I meant Gilles' lovely plans. You and U.N.C.L.E. ruined them for us.

"Oh well such is life, isn't it?" He retorted. "May I remind that you killed a friend of mine. Nathan Saunders, was a good man and a good husband. You widowed a fine woman."

"Me? I don't recall...ooooh, yes Horror and Alarm did shoot someone at the dock. He was a naughty man, holding our men prisoner. My sisters had to deal with him of course, as he was interfering with their task of killing our own people, you know, no loose ends and such."

"Yes, no loose ends. Do you always treat people as if they were nothing, and mere afterthoughts?"

"Why but of course Mr. Solo, as that's exactly what they are."

She drew a knife from her sleeve and proceeded to cut his shirt buttons away one by one, and when she was finished, she sliced up the middle of his undershirt, exposing his skin.

"Hmmm, you are nicely muscular Mr. Solo. I see you have a fair amount of scars, so you are no stranger to pain I think." She dug the point of her blade ever so slightly into his chest, piercing his flesh and running the knife slowly from one side of his chest to another, slicing a line across his skin.

Napoleon, inhaled through his gritted teeth, giving her no other acknowledgement.

"Very nicely done Mr. Solo, but by the time I am finished with you, you'll be begging me to kill you, but not yet you see, that won't do. Gilles has his plans, and has done some very interesting research since we've arrived in New York...it seems your partner and his pregnant wife were on the same flight back to New York as us."

"I know that already," he growled at her.

"Really?" She cocked her head, somehow surprised that he knew. "It seems the blond fellow and his wife have a child too. I was somewhat confused to hear all this...I thought you agents weren't permitted to marry."

She jabbed the knife into his skin again when he refused to respond.

"Maybe we'll take his wife and child and slice them up into nice little pieces...all of course while we make you watch."

"Leave them out of this! It was my assignment to stop you, and no one else's," he snarled at her. "What kind of woman are you to think of even doing such a thing? Maybe you really are one of the Graiai, only the witch kind...or maybe the ugly hag."

That set her off. "Arrrrgh!" She roared at him, raking her fingernails across his face, drawing blood. Dread raised her dagger, ready to bring it down and stab him in his self righteous heart.

"STOP." De Lossier called out from behind her. "There would be no satisfaction in killing him too quickly my dear Dread. Nooo, we're going to make you suffer Mr. Solo, as you possibly have never suffered before."

Napoleon could feel the blood oozing down his face and chest as the wounds began to burn. "Do what you want to me, but no one else. The destruction of your operation was my doing and mine alone."

"Yes, Dread is right...how self righteous and noble of you. We will see how much amusement you bring us. Maybe I'll have the Graiai go after your partner and his family, or perhaps not. We will leave that up to pure whim, I think that will keep you on edge rather nicely, not knowing for sure..."

Gilles raised his cane, bringing it down against the agent's upper arm, this time there was a distinct crack as a bone broke. Napoleon squeezed his eyes closed, again refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing his pain.

"You are a strong one aren't you?" Gilles crooned. "Horror, Alarm come here my swans." He snapped his fingers and the other women appeared from the shadows.

"Remove his shoes and socks and hold his feet up for me my darlings."

They quickly did as they were told, wrapping their bodies Napoleons legs to hold them up, securely in place, with his bare feet exposed.

"This is going to hurt you more than it will me Mr. Solo," De Lossier laughed at his words. He swung his cane, hitting the agents soles with all his might, doing it repeatedly until he was sure he'd fractured more bones.

Still Napoleon remained silent, but this time he bent his head back as silent tears streamed down his bloody face, that was a reaction he couldn't hold back.

One final blow to his shoulder made him mercifully pass out, but Gilles continued to beat him. De Lossier's nostrils flared with anger. "I will not be robbed of your suffering. Wake him ladies, now!"

"But Gilles," Enyo tried to speak to him...

He turned to the smaller woman, lashing out with his hand and slapping her across the face, ensuring her silence.

"Don't you ever dare question me," he shouted at her. "Now I said wake-him-up."

The grey sisters looked at each other, bowing their heads and saying nothing as they fetched buckets of water, and upon returning with them; they throwing it onto Napoleon.

The shock instantly brought him back with a gasp.

"Ah that's much better." Gilles smiled. He leaned into Napoleon's face. "You are a handsome man, I must admit...I wonder now if you perhaps have a wife and child as well, hmmm?"

Gilles' close proximity to the agent let him see the infinitesimal change in Napoleon's pupils. They dilated ever so slightly when he said the words 'wife and child.'

"Aaaaah, they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and you have just told me a well kept secret. Napoleon Solo, the number one agent in all of U.N.C.L.E. has a family. A wife and a child?" Gilles looked into his eyes again. "Hmm a little girl perhaps? Truly a precious gift, Daddy's little girl."

He grabbed Napoleon by the hair, yanking his head back."Now you're going to watch your own family die Solo, and there's not a damn thing you'll be able to do it." He released his grip. Gilles stepped away from the chair, and suddenly, as if on impulse kicked it out from underneath his prisoner, sending him falling to the concrete floor.

"Come my ladies, we have more investigating to do." He laughed, holding the door open for them as they exited the basement, like little ducks all in a row.

.

Alexander Waverly's console lit up, telling he had an incoming call. He picked up the receiver, answering brusquely. "Yes?" "Mr. Waverly, this is Williams in Security. We just received a call from the NYPD that Mr. Solos car was found abandoned in the middle of Fifth Avenue." "What the deuce? How long ago?"

"Police arrived on the scene about twenty minutes ago, and witnesses said Mr. Solo got out of the car, as it looked like he might have struck a pedestrian. He was seen collapsing; the witnesses put a dark haired man with an eyepatch and three women with grey hair putting him into their car and speeding off. Sir that sounds exactly like Gilles De Lossier and his Graiai.

"Yes quite. I want Security to start canvassing within a four block radius of where Mr. Solo's car was found, alert police as well. Make sure they have photographs of De Lossier and the others to reference."

"Yes sir, on it right away."

Waverly hung up the telephone, and immediately picked up his microphone. "Open channel D for me if you would, and get me Mr. Kuryakin.

.

Illya had walked into the vestibule of his home, having just finished punching in his security code when his communicator called to him.

His first reaction was, "What now?" Thinking he just might not get this last day alone with his family after all.

He pulled the pen from his inside breast pocket, opening it immediately. "Kuryakin here."

"Yes, we have a problem. Apparently your partner has gone missing. From the descriptions given by witnesses, he was snatched on Fifth Avenue by Gilles De Lossier and his lady friends."

"Damn," Illya let slip a curse.

"Excuse me young man?"

"Sorry sir. How long ago did this happen?"

"Within the last forty five minutes. Security tapes show show Mr. Solo leaving the parking garage not long after you left the building and a car apparently followed him. We've been unable to home in on his location as his communicator is not active."

"I will return to headquarters as quickly as I can sir."

"Hmm quite, yes please do. Out."

Illya stepped through the front door to his house, calling to his wife."

"I'm here in the kitchen," she answered.

He locked the door behind him, reset the alarm, and went directly to her.

Elliott knew immediately, in spite of the fact he was tanned, that his pallor wasn't right. "What's happened?" She asked, putting down the dish she'd just finished drying.

"Napoleon has been taken by Gilles De Lossier."

"Aw, Jay-sus, this can't be happening. We need ta find him before that maniac does something terrible."

"That is an understatement...Annushka I want you to pack some things and bring the children to headquarters where you will all be safe...I have a bad feeling. Gilles De Lossier and his three associates were on our flight back from Bermuda, I did not know this until I saw their photographs at the meeting with Mr. Waverly this morning. They saw us, and I think they know who we are; it is best not to take a chance.

Elliotts own tan face went pale at that prospect. For once she gave him no argument. "All right."

"I must go back to headquarters now. When you are ready, call me and I will have one of our cars come to pick you up."

"Papa?" Lourdes appeared at the kitchen door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Do we have to go?"

"Sweetheart, it will only be for a little bit, I promise." He scooped her up in his arms just as she began to cry. "I don't wanna goooo. I wanna stay here with you and Mamaaaa."

"Lourdes, you are going to be with us, "Elliott said, taking her from Illya's arms. "We're all going to be there a _stórín._

Now stop yer crying and come help me pack. You can pick out whatever clothes ye want."

"Pink?" She sniffled.

"Yes pink, and you can bring Breda bear and some toys with ye too."

"And Demya too?"

Elliott laughed, "Of course yer brother too, we wouldn't leave him behind would we now?"

Lala shook her head, and turning to her father, reminding him of one last thing. "We can't forget Boris."

"Nooooo, _mon petit._" Illya crooned, "We could never forget her." He leaned in, giving his daughter a kiss as well as his wife.

"Where is Demya?"

"He's at Carmines."

"Call the Cocameras and tell them I am coming to get him now...say it is a family emergency."

Illya dashed out the door, cursing himself when he remembered his car was still parked two blocks away and picked up his pace to a trot. Once he reached it he fumbled with the keys for a second, unlocked the door and, started the car, speeding off down the road past his house, nearly hitting a taxi in the process.

"_Uspokoĭtesʹ vy bolvan_calm down you blockhead,_" he told himself.

Demya's friend lived on the opposite side on Washington Square Park, and at this time of day, traffic would be busy because of the proximity to New York University.

Illya huffed, hitting the horn angrily when he was stuck in a traffic jam, taking away more precious minutes. He had to make sure his family was safe first before he began the search for his partner...Napoleon would understand this and would do the same if their positions were reversed.

Demya was waiting at the curb with Carmine's mother, when Illya pulled up in his Mustang. He popped open the passenger side door, barking in Russian to his son.

"_Saditesʹ v mashinu syeĭchas_in the car now." _

Illya waved wordlessly at Mrs. Cocamera, smiling as he nodded to her, but as soon as Demya was buckled into his seat, he took off with the tires screeching.

Demya had no idea of the seriousness of the situation, and took delight in his father 'laying a patch of rubber.'

"That was cool Papa," he smiled.

Illya's face puckered at that remark but he ignored it and pulled his communicator, deciding to hell with the taxi; he would take his family to headquarters himself.

"Channel F- Elliott Kuryakin." He spoke into the communicator. "Elliott?" There was no answer. "_Chyort voz'mi,_" He cursed, slamming his hand on the dashboard.

"I'm telling Mama you said a bad word." Demya whined. He was in a mood, after having been whisked away from playing with Carmine.

"_Demyachka , ne nachinaĭte so mnoĭ. Yestʹ ochenʹ plokhie veshchi proiskhodyat , i ya khochu, chtoby ty povinovatʹsya bez arguement_Demyachka, do not start with me. There are very bad things happening and I need you to obey me without any argument. _Do you understand me?" He switched back to English.

"Yes sir, sorry Papa. I'll be good."

Illya reached home quickly, as traffic had lightened up, and miraculously, he found a space and pulled into it directly across from the house in front the entrance to the park.

"Demya you are to stay in this car until I come to get you, is that clear?" He tried to keep his voice calmer, not wanting to frighten his son any more than he already had.

"Yes Papa."

"Now you lock the door after I get out and you do not open it for anyone but me. _Da?_" He had no choice but to leave his son there, as he did not know what was happening in the house. He only hoped De Lossier had not arrived.

"_Da Papa_."

Illya climbed from the car, dashed across the street to the house, and drew his Special as he reached the base of the steps.

The vestibule door was ajar, and the inside door was open as well.

"Annushka, please be alright?" He prayed silently.

What he found inside, was not quite what he feared.


	25. Chapter 25

Elliott Kuryakina stepped outside of her home, going directly down the short flight of steps to the the basement apartment where Olga Orloff lived. She carried a small envelope in her hand that she slipped through the mail slot.

Olga would be back from California in three days time, but was not available to call at the moment and, Elliott, being unsure of how long they would have to stay at headquarters, was concerned the possibility of Olga coming home to an empty house needed a brief explanation.

She completed the task, and trotted back upstairs to the vestibule, not wanting to be long as she'd left Lourdes alone in her bedroom, picking through her dresser for clothing and was no doubt making a mess.

She entered the alarm code, opened the front door and that was when she felt it, the barrel of a handgun digging into the middle of her back.

"Get inside and put your hands on your head," a woman ordered.

Elliott complied without saying a word and was shoved in and forward towards the stairs.

"Where is your child?"

"Not here," she lied, but wondered why the woman did not say _children_.

"You're lying!" She grabbed Elliotts hair, yanking it back violently and for a split second the Irishwoman felt the gun slip away from her back. She spun, giving her captor a karate chop to the neck with one hand, while the other latched onto the woman's wrist, forcing the gun to point away from them.

They struggled for control of the weapon, with Elliott digging her thumb into the back of the woman's hand, putting enough pressure there to force her to loosen her grip.

This was no amateur catfight, these were two women trained in hand to hand combat.

Elliott ripped the weapon free and shoved her backwards and as the woman staggered, she hit her with a solid roundhouse kick to the midsection, knocking her to the floor.

The woman rebounded, flipping herself to her feet with her long grey hair flying wildly and kicking the gun from Elliotts hand in one fluid motion, sending it hurtling down the hallway. The two women exchanged a series of kicks and punches but both of them blocked each other with expert ease. Elliott was struggling to protect her abdomen at all cost.

They latched onto each other arms, struggled together in close quarters and not able to throw any punches, as they pushed and shoved their way into the dining room.

Coming out of her hiding place with a growl that seemed to come from the tip of her tail; Boris leaped at the woman's legs, digging in her razor like claws and bit into her calf. The assailant let out a scream and Elliott managed to reach behind her, grabbing hold of a heavy Waterford crystal vase from a side table, smashing it down on the woman's head and knocking her out cold.

Elliott ripped the drawstrings from the window curtains and quickly tied her hands and feet, and then sat down, huffing from her exertions, on top of the woman, trying to catch her breath. The cat hopped up beside her with a miaow.

"Good on ye Boris." She reached out giving the now purring cat a pet, and scratching her behind the ears.

"Mama, why are you and Boris sitting on that lady?" Lourdes appeared out of nowhere.

"Because..." Elliott answered, trying to calm herself down, brushing her long red hair from her face.

"Why?"

"I said _because_, and let it be enough child. Now away with ye, go back up to yer room before Mama becomes cross."

Lourdes Mary turned tail without argument, scrambling up the stairs and out of sight.

.

Illya opened front door and crept inside his home with the utmost of caution, not knowing what he would find, though he tried to drive the worst case scenario from his head.

He tiptoed down the front hallway, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his wife and the family cat sitting on top of a grey haired woman who was lying sprawled, face down on the dining room floor.

"Are you alright?" He asked, taken off guard by what he saw.

"I'm fine, but I don't think our friend here is...pity I broke my Waterford vase on her head. Who is she by the way, do ye know?"

Illya took a quick look at her. "She is one of De Lossier's companions. He offered his wife a hand up, passing his Special to her. Boris remained on the woman's back, triumphantly kneading with her front claws as she continued to purr.

"I will be right back." Illya turned around, heading out the front door.

A few moments later he reappeared with Demya in his arms, covering the boys head with his hand to block the child's view. Illya sat his son on the third step, preventing him from viewing the dining room, and ordering him upstairs. The boy obeyed him instantly.

"Stay with your sister until we come get you," Illya called after him.

"Da Papa," Demyas small voice echoed from the upstairs hallway.

Illya shooed Boris and lifted the woman, setting her down on one of the dining room chairs, and gently slapped her face to bring her around.

"Arrrgh," she growled as soon as she came to; seeing her predicament.

"Lower your voice," Illya spoke softly, dropping his own voice low. "And if you raise it again and frighten my children; I will have to kill you. It is as simple as that."

"You wouldn't."

"He would," Elliott said matter of factly.

They watched as she swallowed hard with her eyes darting about like a caged animal.

"You are the one called Enyo?"

She nodded to him.

"And why are you here?"

"I was supposed to take your wife and child hostage, and bring them to Gilles."

"Hmm, wife and child?" He thought, that meat De Lossier's intelligence was faulty. "For what purpose?" He asked her.

"He wants to kill them in front of your partner as part of his revenge...look I'm really sorry about this. I didn't want to do it. I wouldn't want a child harmed, but Gilles made me. He _makes _us do what ever he wants, whether we like it or not."

"And how does he do that?" Elliott asked.

"He beats us, abuses us, yet he's loving and affectionate and give us anything we want. Gilles can be very convincing and always gets his way."

"_Eto odin iz zaputannykh ptitsy_this is one mixed up bird," _Elliott said in Russian as she and Illya looked at each other.

"_De Lossier Zvuki, a Rasputin , kak mne_De Lossier sounds rather Rasputin like to me." _Illya replied. He leaned forward, knowing what now to do, sensing Enyo would be open to the power of suggestion.

Elliott stepped back, crossing her arms, ready to enjoy the show. Illya was a master at interrogation, and at times could be quite frightening at how easily he could manipulate a person. She smiled knowing as his wife, she was one of the few people immune to those talents of his.

Illya rested his his hands on the chair arms as he brought his face close to Enyo's, the tip of his nose nearly touching hers.

"Do you like it when he beats you?"

"No, it hurts and frightens me."

"Would you like him to stop hurting you?"

"Yes, but he won't he is..._Gilles_."

"Why do you not leave him?"

"I _love_ him, but the others love him too."

Illya thought quickly, though he hated to reduce what she was saying to psychological terms; she seemed to be experiencing some sort of capture-bonding, feeling empathy and positive feelings towards an evil man like De Lossier.

"What if I told you I could get him to stop hurting you, and love only you from now on? Just a gentle lovers touch," he ran his hand so softly against her cheek. "Just a lovers tender kiss." He let his fingers brush barely across her now pouting lips and speaking very softly.

"I will do this for you, I promise," he whispered hypnotically. "But you must do something for me." His voice was filled of tenderness.

"What?"

"Tell me where Napoleon Solo is being held."

Reality returned to Enyos face. "I can't do that, Gilles would kill me."

"Did I not just promise that he would only show you love, I can get him to do that for you. You can go to Gilles and have him all to yourself, I will see to it. Remember I gave my word and a promise is a promise." He focused on her with his compelling blue eyes yet he could see the dilemma in her's.

"You will know only love with Gilles De Lossier, he whispered, luring her further into a suggestive, trance-like state.

Her large brown eyes softened as she fell into Illya's trap.

"Tell me, does this _please_ you?"

"Yes, since you promised. Come closer, I'll whisper it only to you. Her eyes glanced suspiciously at Elliott.

Illya leaned in again in anticipation.

"He's in a basement at the corner of East 42nd and 3rd Avenue. There's something else...Gilles has sent Dread and Alarm after Mr. Solo's family."

Illya looked immediately to his wife. "Contact Security and have them come pick her up and have her put into an observation cell." He snapped his fingers to release Enyo from the trance.

"Jay-sus Illuysha, ye are good. Ye had me all hot and bothered too, ye Svengali ye," Elliott whispered, reaching for her communicator. "_Vy ponimaete, chto to, chto ona skazala tebe mozhet bytʹ lovushka syeĭchas_ye do realize what she told you could be a trap now,_" she said under her breath.

"_Da, no yestʹ shans, chto dolzhny bytʹ prinyaty_ yes but that is a chance that must be taken."_

Enyo looked at him in confusion. "You said I could go to him. You _lied_ to me." She struggled in the chair to free herself as she moaned her frustration.

"Yes I did; get over it." Illya pulled out his own communicator as he moved towards the front door.

"Open Channel D- Waverly."

"Mr. Kuryakin, we are awaiting your arrival. Where the devil you?"

"Sir I have found out Mr. Solo's location and am on my way there now. I need a security detail to Napoleon's home immediately as De Lossier intends to kidnap Bella and the children. There was an attempt to do the same to my family but Elliott...circumvented it. We have one of De Lossier's women in custody here at my home and have called for Security to pick her up."

"Excellent and quick work. Yes," Waverly paused," The security teams are being dispatched as we speak. Report to me as soon as Mr. Solo is out of harms way. Out."

Illya crossed the street to his car and took off for the address Enyo had given him, not ten minutes away. When he arrived at the location, he noted how innocuous it looked; it was simple corner delicatessen. T.H.R.U.S.H. had a way of using the unexpected for their purposes.

He opened the door, finding the place surprisingly empty except for a man behind the counter. Not hesitating; Illya darted him instantly; hearing the body hit the floor with a thud.

He turned the open sign hanging in the door to the closed side, heading towards a door conveniently marked 'basement no admittance." Opening it slowly; Illya could hear a raised male voice coming from below, as well as a dull thumping sound.

.

Solo lay on the hard floor in the middle of a puddle of pink water turned that color from mixing with his blood. De Lossier continued to pour cold water on the agent each time he passed out and the water was pooling around Napoleon exponentially.

Gilles was tapping his cane against Napoleon's head, not hard enough to cause damage, but every few strokes he would hit just a little harder. The American's cheeks were bruised and becoming quite swollen.

All the while De Lossier was feeling more frustrated at his inability to elicit any painful responses from the U.N.C.L.E. agent.

"I must say Mr. Solo, you are definitely one tough nut to crack." He knelt down beside him and without warning Napoleon lashed upwards with his leg, hitting Gilles on the side of his head, knocking him to the floor.

There was little else Napoleon could manage, as his feet were both fractured and he brought down his leg again on De Lossier, trying to slam into his throat and crush his windpipe, but Solo missed.

Gilles roared with anger as he pulled himself back, out of the agents reach.

"I'll show you," he snarled, lifting his cane again and smashing it down against Napoleon's shins. Finally there was a satisfying response as Solo cried out from the excruciating pain.

Illya burst in through the door at the bottom of the steps at that moment, taking Gilles off guard, but De Lossier quickly recouped, pointing his cane at the Russian as it was also a single shot weapon. The Russian charged, wrestling with the larger man for the weapon as it went off, sending the bullet into the ceiling.

Kuryakin's own gun was still in his hand and he fired it point blank, hitting De Lossier in the chest with a dart and held onto the man as his body went limp, happy that his struggle with him were rather anticlimactic.

Illya released his grip, letting Gilles drop to the floor, and stepped over the body to reach his partner and gently lifted the Americans head. "I am here, it is alright my friend. "

"Our families... in danger," Napoleon gasped, coughing to get the words out. He was in so much pain that he could barely speak.

"They are safe, now please try to keep still while I call for a medical team."

"Mmm goody... get to ride in an ambulance." Still letting his sense of humor show as he rasped, trying to muster a smile, but it just hurt too much.

Illya chuckled as he shook his head. "Napoleon, you never listen to me. Please conserve your strength and be quiet," but his words went unheard as his partner had passed out.

.

It was nearly two months before the senior agent was released from medical to light duty within headquarters, while he continued his physical therapy. Today he sat in a wheelchair alongside his partner at Waverly's conference table, but was told he'd be allowed to start walking on a limited basis with the help of a cane, in a few more days.

Waverly put down his pipe as he focused on a folder in front of him. "Gentlemen, as you know Gilles De Lossier was financially independent of T.H.R.U.S.H. and was a surprisingly wealthy man. We have located no less that five properties owned by him in the Caribbean and South America and have confiscated funds in the amount of ten million dollars in various bank accounts throughout the world. The majority of the real estate has since been sold off, bringing a tidy sum, I must say, to be added to the U.N.C.L.E. coffers."

"One wonders why a man who was so well off would maintain ties with Thrush," Illya said.

"Indeed, Mr. Kuryakin. I think it was not the money, but the power that it wielded, and that combined with Thrush made it all too an enticing relationship. On a bright note, the estate that De Lossier maintained in Bermuda is being kept as part of our holdings as a sort of retreat, as it were, to be used at our discretion for agents who need a bit of a respite from time to time. You gentlemen, are being offered the opportunity for such a retreat, given the disruption of your honeymoon Mr. Kuryakin, and to you Mr. Solo for a job well done, as well as needing more recuperation time.

The partners looked at each other.

"No thank you sir," Illya replied, "I think I prefer remaining closer to home."

Waverly was surprised. "And you Mr. Solo, surely you could use some fine tropical air while you finish mending?"

"Sir, I was told by several wise people, 'there's no place like home,' and that I find very appealing at the moment. Thank you for the offer though, perhaps another time."

"Well I never...I'm giving you free vacations and you turn me down? You two are most perplexing at times." Waverly picked up his briar pipe, lit it and let out a few puffs of smoke, obviously something was being mulled over in his head.

"That being the case, I think Mrs. Waverly and I will take advantage of the situation and have a little trip down there. I hear it is quite spectacular... ahem, traveling with a full security team of course, perhaps headed by our newest Section II agent, Anita Minor." He smiled, the old fox that he was.

With the discussion concluded, Illya wheeled his partner from the conference room, heading down to the commissary for some lunch.

"So everything is right with the world for now, and U.N.C.L.E. is all the more richer due in part to our efforts," he said.

"Yup, just another day's work, right _tovarisch?"_

"I suppose, it was not really that for me as it was supposed to have be my honeymoon."

"Here we go...I _didn't_ force you."

"No, but had I not helped you; you would still be traipsing around circles in Bermuda." Illya teased him.

"_Pas vrai_not true_." Napoleon answered in French.

"Oh please, not that awful accent of yours, again."

"Take it back or I'll keep speaking French to you," Napoleon threatened.

"Tsk." Illya rolled his eyes, and let go of the wheelchair, abandoning it and his partner as he walked away.

"Hey, don't leave me here." Napoleon called as he struggled to roll the chair down the corridor after Illya.

"Come on, I was only joking...okay, I won't speak French to you!"

He heard Illya's muffled snicker from around the corner.

"Very funny..."

.

Finis


End file.
